


Halo Not Included

by ArabellaFaith



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pretty Woman Fusion, F/F, Frottage, Genderswap, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22435414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArabellaFaith/pseuds/ArabellaFaith
Summary: Antonia Crowley is lost on Hollywood Boulevard and who offers her directions but Azira Fell, lady of the night?A femslash GO and Pretty Woman fusion.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few quick notes: this work follows the movie PW very closely, and several scenes of dialogue are lifted directly from the movie. Anything you recognize (as well as the characters and setting, etc) are obviously not mine.
> 
> Crowley is still from London in this, and only in LA with a few of her work associates for a week on business.
> 
> Azira is living in LA with her 'siblings' ie. the angels. The character of Kit doesnt exist, unless she is warped into an evil Michael. But more on them later. Enjoy!

_ The problem, _ Crowley thought furiously,  _ is that these fucking Yanks drive on the wrong side of the goddamn road! _

She tried to shift the car again, and it stalled.  _ Again.  _ And now, she realized, she had no idea where the hell she was.

God, this trip couldn’t get any worse.

A knock sounded on the window. A curvy brunette with a terrible haircut and an obscene red dress was standing just outside the car. Against her better judgement, Crowley rolled down the window.

“Are you looking for a good time?” the woman asked, voice far more timid than what Crowley would expect from someone in  _ that _ dress.

“I’m  _ looking,” _ she hissed, not bothering to hide her irritation, “for the Regent Beverly Wilshire. Can you point me in the right direction?”

“Oh, certainly my dear! You just-”

Someone cleared their throat loudly, and the woman blushed, stuttering to a stop.

“I mean, I’ll show you for… t-twenty bucks.”

Crowley wanted to smack someone, but she wasn’t sure who. She rummaged through her wallet, and realized she didn’t have any bills smaller than a fifty. “All I’ve got is a fifty.”

The woman glanced over her shoulder again, seemed to deflate a little, and then got in the car, uninvited. She took the fifty. “I’ll give you the full tour, then.”

Crowley sighed and started the car again.  _ This is going to be a long night. _

***

“Down the street, take a right here,” the woman said as Crowley pulled into traffic. “And maybe, headlights?”

Crowley had no idea where the damn headlights were on this monstrosity. Thankfully, the woman reached over for her and flicked them to auto.

They went down two more blocks before Crowley asked, “So, what’s your name?” She wasn't sure why she asked, exactly. It wasn't like she expected to know the woman longer than the time it took to reach the hotel, but she could admit that she  _ was _ vaguely curious about someone who seemed to be so much of a contradiction.

The woman looked over at her, false coyness and what looked like genuine timidness. “What do you want it to be?”

They stopped at a red light, and Crowley gave her a clear  _ look _ over the top of her sunglasses. The woman had the decency to seem chagrined. “Azira,” she said. “My name’s Azira.”

“Pretty name,” Crowley murmured.  _ Pretty girl, _ she added silently. And it was true. Under that truly hideous haircut, gaudy makeup, and the cheap clothes, she  _ was _ pretty. Thick thighs, full breasts…  _ Eyes up front,  _ Crowley reminded herself.

As if she could sense Crowley’s carnal appreciation, Azira flushed. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “This is a lovely car,” she said finally.

Crowley grunted. “I wouldn’t know. Seems temperamental.” The gears squealed and ground together as if to highlight her point.

“Maybe a lighter touch? This is only four cylanders. It could corner like it was on rails, if you eased up on the clutch.”

“You know about cars?” Crowley’s brows rose.

Azira flushed again. “Not much. My- my family does some work with cars. When I was younger, I sometimes got to help.” She shrugged, then quickly turned the conversation away from herself. “You look like someone who would know about cars.”

“My first car was a limousine,” Crowley admitted. “Back home, I’ve got a Bently. Now  _ that’s  _ a car. Not this American made, backward, piece of  _ shit.” _ Crowley tried to take a corner, and the tires screeched as the engine sputtered.

“Oh dear… that may have been the transmission…” Azira looked behind them, as though she actually expected them to have left the transmission in the road. “Perhaps if you shifted less heavily?”

Crowley had had enough. “Have you ever driven one of these?” she demanded.

Azira blinked. “A Lotus? No.”

“Well you’re about to.”

“Wh- really?”

“Yes, really. It’s the only way I’m going to make it to the hotel with this car in one piece.” She pulled the car over and let the engine die.

***

Two minutes later, the car was purring as it moved fluidly in and out of traffic. Azira was a slow, cautious driver, but the car responded to her every movement, and she made the drive seem effortless.

Crowley barely noticed the blocks passing, and then the car pulled smoothly to a stop in front of the hotel.

Azira slid out as the valet came around. The valet got in while Crowley grabbed her coat and bag, and then he pulled away from the curb with no problem. Great, so apparently  _ she _ was the only one who couldn’t drive the damn car. She huffed and tucked her coat over her arm.

Azira stood somewhat awkwardly on the sidewalk, now glaringly out of place in this part of town.

“You gonna be alright?” Crowley asked. Something tugged at her. Conscience?

“Oh, certainly. I’ll just- I’ll just get a taxi.”

“Back to your  _ office?” _

That made her giggle, and Crowley found she liked the sound. “Yes,” Azira smiled, “my office.” She looked around, checked the strap of her purse, and then half turned. “Well, have a pleasant evening.”

Crowley nodded, and watched her walk away. She made it as far as the bus stop, and then sat down on the bench there, studying the sidewalk.

_ Go inside and forget about her, _ Crowley told herself sternly. Instead, she walked up to the bench. “Couldn’t find a taxi?”

Azira smiled sheepishly. “Th-the bus is quite alright.”

_ You know you shouldn’t… _ “If you don’t have any prior engagements, you could accompany me inside.”

There was a pause, as Azira registered the words, then it clicked. “Oh! Oh, well certainly.” She stood, dusting off what little there was to her skirt daintily. They turned toward the hotel. “So, what’s your name?”

“Crowley.”

“Crowley?”

Crowley waved off her obvious disbelief. “Antonia Crowley, but no one calls me  _ Antonia. _ I go by Crowley.”

“Oh, well in that case, very pleased to meet you, Crowley.” She paused, and held out her hand. Crowley shook it.

The doorman looked at them askanse, and Crowley quickly dropped her coat over Azira’s shoulders. Though there were only a few inches difference in their heights, the long coat fell neatly to Azira’s ankles.

“Uh- Crowley?”

“Places like this don’t usually rent by the hour, if you know what I mean, angel.”

“Oh, no, I suppose not.” She ducked her head, and Crowley felt like a bitch. Before she could say anything to lessen the sting of her harsh statement, they crossed into the entryway, and Azira stopped in her tracks, looking around with wide eyes.  _ “Holy-” _ She clenched the coat closed. “This place is-”

“C’mon,” Crowley said softly, ushering her toward the front desk.

Azira was still staring around in wonder as Crowley checked her messages, and asked for champagne and strawberries to be sent up to her room.

“They’ll be there shortly, Ms Crowley. Is there anything else I can do for you?” The concierge eyed Azira briefly. 

“No.” Crowley quickly herded Azira to the elevator. It’d be a miracle if she got through this without someone selling a picture to the press.

***

The elevator stopped at the penthouse suite, and Azira stared around again.

Crowley couldn’t help smirking. “Impressed?”

Azira smiled, more relaxed now that they were away from stares and whispers. “Oh no, I come here all the time. In fact, they  _ do _ rent this room by the hour.”

Crowley couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “Sure they do.”

Azira walked to the open patio doors and stepped onto the balcony. Another exclamation of awe floated back into the room.

“This view is stunning!”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Crowley said, sitting down to sort out the messages the front desk had given her. “I don’t go out there.” Most of the messages were things she could ignore - really, couldn’t  _ anyone _ do their job without needing their hand held?

“Whyever don’t you?” Azira came back in, looking far more adorable than a windswept hooker had any right to.

“I fell, once, a long time ago. Haven’t been a fan of heights since.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She sounded genuinely sympathetic, and Crowley waved it off. “But - why rent the Penthouse, if you don’t like heights?”

Crowley rolled her shoulders back and smirked. “It’s the best.”

“And I don’t suppose there are many Penthouses on the ground floor.”

“None that I’ve found.”

Azira wandered around for a moment more, looking at the crystal chandelier, the plush couches and vases of fresh flowers. Then she sat primly on the edge of the chair nearest Crowley and asked, “Well, now that you’ve got me here, what do you plan to do with me?”

Her dress rode up her shapely thighs as she sat, and Crowley swallowed hard. “I’ll be honest, I don’t have a clue. I hadn’t exactly planned this.”

_ This is what happens when you work yourself too hard, _ Crowley chided herself.  _ You make stupid, impulsive decisions. And now, now you have a fucking hooker in your hotel room. _

“Do you plan everything?” Azira asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Always.”

“Well then, why don’t we make a plan? You could pay me, for a start.”

“Oh, yes. I mean-” Crowley reached into her purse, pulling out her wallet. “I guess I never did ask how much.”

“It’s a hundred for the hour.”

Crowley had no idea if that was outrageous or cheap, but she handed over the bill without complaint. What the hell was she going to do with a hooker for an hour? It was obvious what she  _ wanted _ to do, but was she really just going to…  _ do _ that?

Was she really that lonely?

Because as much as Crowley wanted to see what was under that ridiculous dress, and explore the curves of Azira’s lush body, there was no way this was just about sex. Crowley could go into any bar in the city and walk out with a man or woman of her choice. She knew what she looked like. Her lean body practically undulated when she walked, her scarlet tinted lips set off her pale skin to perfection, and even her unusual amber eyes turned heads.

No, it wasn’t just about sex.

She wanted… companionship, for a little while. Someone who wasn’t tugging at her skirt, trying to best her or to get something from her. Someone who wasn’t kissing her ass to get ahead. Someone who she could  _ relax _ around for once.

“I’ll admit,” Azira was saying, “I’ve never done this one on one with another woman before - there were always… men involved. But I do know how to make a dental dam out of a condom, and I’m certain that I can suit your needs-”

“Just- wait.”

Azira paused, hand hovering over the edge of her boot, where she’d just pulled a condom from.

“Why don’t we just slow down a bit, hm?”

“Oh, I’m sorry if I’ve been too forward-”

“No, that’s not it, I just- like I said, I’ve never done this before. And I don’t like rushing.”

Azira’s eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall. “Well, we can spend the hour however you want, of course, but usually…”

“I don’t like deadlines, either. An hour.” She shook her head. “Who can accomplish anything in an hour?”

“Well usually-”

Crowley certainly didn’t want to hear what happened  _ usually. _ “They obviously didn’t know what the hell they were doing with you if they were done in an hour. That’s ridiculous. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it properly, without a damn timer hanging over my head. How much for the night, angel?”

Azira blinked at her, speechless. “I… well, I’d have to check in, make sure no one thought I’d gotten… lost.”

So she had a pimp waiting for her. Crowley’s stomach roiled. When she spoke again, she forced her voice to be gentle. “Would you want to stay the night, with me?”

“Yes,” Azira breathed, looking up at Crowley from beneath impossibly long lashes. As soon as she heard herself, she flushed and stammered. “I- I mean, I could, if you want me to.”

Crowley tried not to think of other ways she could make Azira flush. She colored so easily, and so prettily. How far down would that blush spread, when she was naked and-

“Then tell me how much, check in with whoever was waiting for you, and then we can relax.”

Azira nodded and pulled a cheap, ancient looking cell phone from her bag. She sent a text, and got a reply almost instantly. She gasped softly at whatever she read, and typed out another message. There was another reply, and then she put the phone away, looking anywhere but Crowley’s face.

“For the night, it would be f-five hundred?”

Very purposely not thinking about the fact that Azira probably wouldn’t get to spend more than a fraction of that money, Crowley pulled out the bills and handed them over.

“Thank you,” Azira said primly, as though she was accepting a cup of tea instead of a stack of bills in exchange for her body.

There was a soft, insistent ringing, and Azira started. “What’s that?”

“The doorbell. I ordered room service.”

“Oh! Well in that case, let me make myself useful.”

She opened the door, and a bellman brought in a cart with a bowl of strawberries and a bottle of champagne chilling on ice. Crowley passed the man a tip and ushered him right back out, before he could spend any more time oogling Azira’s legs.

Once they were alone again, she poured a glass of champagne and handed it to Azira, who sipped it. Crowley couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of Azira’s lips pursed around the rim of the glass. She cleared her throat and offered a strawberry.

“They bring out the flavor of the champagne,” she said by way of explanation.

Azira thanked her, and Crowley was graced with the sight of those lips wrapped around a strawberry. And then Azira’s eyes closed, and she  _ moaned, _ and  _ fucking hell _ Crowley had never gotten wet so fast in her life.

“That was… sublime,” Azira said once she swallowed the berry and chased it with another sip.

“You’re telling me,” Crowley muttered.

***

After watching two more berries and half the glass of champagne disappear through Azira’s lovely lips, Crowley forced herself away. She had work to do before the end of the night, and now that Azira was staying, it didn’t look like that work was going to get done any later.

“You’re not going to have a glass?” Azira asked as Crowley went back to the desk.

“I don’t drink on business trips.”

“Then why did you-” Azira looked back at the tray, for the first time realizing it had been brought in just for her. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, of course, but I don’t need seduced, you know.”

Crowley tipped her head to the side. “Whoever convinced you of that?”

Azira didn’t have an answer.

“Just, make yourself comfortable, hm? I’ve got some work to do. There’s a TV through there, bathroom’s to the right, water and some snacks in the fridge, I think.”

“Minibar snacks are terribly overpriced, you know.”

Crowley huffed out a laugh. “I think I can afford it. Help yourself.” She enjoyed the sight of Azira walking away, then started going through her messages again.

***

Crowley had just finished sending off a slew of profane texts in reply to several particularly stupid underlings when she heard Azira’s excited exclamation from across the room.

“Books!”

There was a little alcove along the Eastern wall, with a built in bookcase, a plush chair, and three panels of floor to ceiling windows that provided a panoramic view of the skyline. Sitting in that little nook, it felt as if one was suspended in the sky, surrounded not by walls, but by air. Crowley knew, because she’d made the mistake of sitting in that chair once, and had loathed it.

She wasn’t surprised that Azira would gravitate to that spot. The books, though, she could admit that had surprised her. Yes, it was a stereotype, and a bad one at that, but Crowley hadn’t thought the woman she picked up on the street would be quite so delighted at a stack of books.

She watched surreptitiously as Azira scanned the titles, then pulled an ancient looking tome from the shelf. She settled into the chair, book in her lap and strawberries beside her, and started to read.

In moments, she was engrossed in the book, absentmindedly snacking on the berries.

Between her next phone calls, Crowley called down and ordered a tea service, a cheese tray, and an assortment of petite fours. She had them leave the cart in the hall so that the doorbell didn’t disturb Azira.

When it arrived ten minutes later, Crowley switched the trays out, removing the now empty bowl of strawberries. Azira didn’t even look up from her book.

Smiling, Crowley went back to her calls.

***

It was late when Crowley finally packed away her papers and silenced her phone.

Azira was still reading. At some point, she’d removed her boots and cheap nylon thigh highs, and was sitting with her legs tucked up beneath her.

Crowley sprawled into a chair nearby and openly watched her.

It wasn’t often that people surprised Crowley. She’d learned hard lessons about human nature, and greed, and what really made the world go round. No one could claim that she was naive. She didn’t believe in fairy tale romances, or even love in general. That was a weakness that had been ground out of her at an early age.

But she could still be intrigued, and Azira certainly had her intrigued. And she still felt lust, and there was no doubt Azira incited  _ that. _ But it was more than that, too. Now that she’d been surprised by the woman, she wanted to experience it again. She wanted to unravel the layers of Azira, one at a time.

Which was absolute sentimental twaddle.

But it was still true.

When Azira’s hand hit the bottom of the now empty cheese tray, she looked up.

“Oh!” Clearly she hadn’t realized how much she’d eaten. Crowley, on the other hand, had barely been able to tear her eyes away from a single bite. Then Azira’s eyes went to Crowley, splayed inelegantly across the chair, watching her.  _ “Oh.” _

She closed her book and slipped off the chair, crossing to Crowley in two steps and then dropping to her knees at Crowley’s feet. She ran one hand up Crowley’s stocking clad thigh, parting her legs and situating herself between them. She’d barely settled in when she suddenly rose, went to her purse, then the counter, and finally returned with a pillow in her left hand and a condom cut neatly into a dental dam in her right. She dropped the pillow down onto the floor, knelt onto it, and kissed up Crowley’s thigh till she found the edge of her garter.

With gentle fingers and talented lips, she unfastened the straps and pulled Crowley’s thong down her legs.

It should have looked obscene, Crowley’s skirt rucked up to her hips, her legs splayed, and Azira lowering her head between them, but all Crowley could think was  _ beautiful. _

Azira dropped the whisper-thin latex into place and then licked a broad stroke up Crowley’s center. She hissed and arched.

“Is this what you want?” Azira asked, voice husky.

“What all do you do?” Crowley asked, because it was more eloquent than  _ fucking hell yes. _

“Everything. But I don’t kiss on the mouth.”

Crowley smiled. “Neither do I.”

Azira lowered her mouth again, and Crowley let her head fall back, enjoying the sinfully skilled tongue dancing across her clit. Azira might have said earlier that she hadn’t been alone with a woman before, but it was obvious that she was no stranger to oral sex. She kept up a relentless barrage of sensation, keeping Crowley spiraling higher and higher.

Crowley didn’t think of herself as particularly easy to please in bed, but within minutes, her thighs were tightening around Azira’s head, breath starting to hitch. Azira tapped the tip of her tongue against the stiff, throbbing bead of tissue once, twice, and then Crowley hissed in pleasure as her orgasm tore through her.

Azira coaxed her through the waves of sensation, lapping softly at her folds but not over-stimulating her with direct contact to her clit. It was  _ perfect. _ Crowley hadn’t had sex that good in  _ years. _ She was blissed out, loose limbed, lazy with pleasure. For once, she wasn’t thinking about her company, or the companies she could be taking over, or her father, or the people who worked for her. She was thinking about what Azira’s skin would feel like under her hands, and what her face would look like when she came undone.

With one final lick, Azira sat back and wiped her mouth. It was rosy from friction, and kiss-swollen. Crowley wondered if her nipples would plump up the same way. If they’d look as pretty when they were glossy from Crowley’s mouth. She shivered when Azira pulled the makeshift dental dam away and tossed it into the trash.

“Come with me,” Crowley said, rising and offering her hand to help Azira up as well. She pulled Azira to the bedroom, backed her against the wall, and started kissing her way down Azira’s neck as she pulled down the straps of her dress. The top peeled away to reveal a scarlet push up bra that looked uncomfortably tight. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Azira needed to be in pink silk, or white satin. Something soft, that complimented her shape rather than constricted it. Or, hell, Crowley could just as easily picture her in a prim tartan robe. A robe she could part, to find her bare beneath it.

She moaned softly and pushed the dress down further, until it slipped over Azira’s hips and fell to the floor. The panties she was wearing matched the bra, and they looked just as  _ wrong. _ Crowley couldn’t wait to get them off her. She negligently stripped off her own blouse and leaned in close, skin to skin.

Crowley was always cool, and Azira was warm to the touch. At first the contrast was so sharp it almost felt like a burn. Crowley wanted to melt into that warmth. She brought her hands up, cupping Azira’s breasts, but was hindered by the excessive padding in the bra. She reached around, and with a flick of her fingers, the hooks came undone. The straps fell down Azira’s shoulders. Then, it was only her arm, which she’d brought up with a shocked gasp, holding the offending material in place. Crowley waited, not wanting to rush her. After a moment, Azira lowered her arm, and the bra fell away.

_ Fuuuuuuuck, _ Crowley thought unintelligibly. Her hands were drawn helplessly up, feeling the weight of Azira’s breasts, kneading them, rolling the sensitive tips until Azira gasped and rubbed her thighs together. Crowley stooped down and brought one stiff peak to her mouth, laving the sensitive skin before wrapping her lips around it and sucking.

Azira arched away from the wall, her hands sinking into Crowley’s hair. Crowley paid the same attention to the other nipple, drinking in each of Azira’s moans. She let her teeth just barely graze Azira’s skin, and Azira’s hands tightened and  _ tugged, _ and that was it, Crowley couldn’t wait another moment to have this woman beneath her in bed. She pulled back and quickly stripped out of the rest of her clothes.

“Bed,” she ordered hoarsely.

Azira watched her with heavy lidded eyes as she backed toward the bed. Once Crowley had kicked away the last article of clothing, she stalked after her. Azira barely sat on the edge of the mattress before Crowley was on her, pushing her gently back and pulling those cheap knickers down her thighs.

As soon as they hit the floor, Azira scooted back until she was half reclining against the headboard, naked and splayed open. Crowley stared. The longer she stared, the more Azira’s blush, which had started across her cheekbones, spread. Crowley knew that she was probably making Azira uncomfortable, but she couldn’t help it. It was like being confronted with a literal fucking angel. Azira was all flawless pale skin, lush curves, and exquisite softness.

Crowley had never seen anything so beautiful.

“C-Crowley…”

Crowley finally moved, kneeling on the bed and sliding her hands slowly up Azira’s body. “You are…  _ exquisite,” _ she breathed. Her fingers explored the dip of Azira’s belly button, the curve of her waist. She slid higher, cupping her breasts and thumbing at her nipples. She leaned forward, so that her own - admittedly much smaller - breasts would brush against them. The soft drag of flesh against flesh had them both gasping. 

“Can I put my fingers in you?”

Crowley waited for Azira to nod before lowering her hand between Azira’s legs. She groaned to find her slick with arousal. Moans could be faked, but this - this was real. Crowley straddled one of Azira’s thick thighs, wantonly pressing her sex against the soft skin. She circled her hips as she dipped her fingers into Azira and brought some of that slickness up to her clit. Azira exhaled sharply, her hands fisting the bedsheets. Crowley sank two fingers back inside Azira’s tight heat and let her thumb press against the now slick bundle of nerves.

She started to circle her thumb in time with each circle of her own hips, pumping her fingers slowly in and out at the same time. Now that she’d come once, Crowley took her time building toward another orgasm. She watched Azira’s breasts rise and fall with her gasping breaths, played with them with her free hand. At one point she urged Azira’s hands up to her own, and she started to do the same, cupping and kneading Crowley’s breasts the same way Crowley was doing to her.

All the while, Crowley kept circling her hips, frotting against Azira’s thigh. She was still wet from her first orgasm, and there was just enough friction to send pleasure dancing along her veins. She could feel Azira’s pleasure, too. In the pulse beating in her clit, in the rhythmic clenching of her cunt around Crowley’s fingers, in the hitches of her breath. So many times, Crowley thought Azira was on the brink of orgasm. She would start to tense, her limbs shaking and eyes squeezed shut, but every time, something stalled her ascent. She was in her own head, overthinking, getting in the way of allowing herself to let go.

Crowley didn’t push until she was close herself. She started to move her hips faster, a quick forward and back rocking instead of the slow circles. “You feel so good,” she murmured down at Azira. “God, I’m going to come again.” She dropped her head down, kissing messily against Azira’s throat. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I- I-” Azira closed her eyes, hips bucking helplessly. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure through Crowley, but she tried to ignore it. Azira shook, she whimpered. When she opened her eyes again, they were wet. “I  _ can’t. _ I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

Immediately, Crowley stilled her fingers. “No, no angel, don’t cry. It’s alright. It’s okay.”

“Please don’t stop,” Azira begged. “I want you to come. Please?”

Part of Crowley knew she should stop anyway. But she was too close, too selfish, too undone, to listen to that part. She pressed another open mouthed kiss to Azira’s throat and bucked forward half a dozen more times, and that’s all it took. She buried her face against Azira’s neck and shuddered through her orgasm.

For a long while after, she stayed like that, pillowed against Azira’s body, languid with release. If it wouldn’t have been weird, and probably uncomfortable for Azira, Crowley could have slept there, just like that. Instead, she shifted away, rolling to her back bonelessly for a moment before sitting up.

“I’m gonna go hop in a shower. Make yourself comfortable, yeah?”

Azira nodded. Her eyes were now dry, Crowley noted with relief, and she seemed content. Hopefully she’d take the opportunity to masturbate in private, so she wasn’t uncomfortably wound up the whole night. Crowley wished she could have gotten Azira to orgasm herself, but she understood that sometimes it just wasn’t possible. And it wasn’t as though this was exactly a normal situation. Was there etiquette about giving the hooker you hired an orgasm? She thought probably not, since most men barely considered anything beyond the end of their own dicks. Might’ve been a nice change of pace for Azira, though.

Crowley washed her hands thoroughly, then stepped into the shower, briskly rinsing herself off.

When she finished, she brought a damp rag out with her, realizing that she’d probably left Azira’s thigh a mess. She had been ready to offer it as she walked into the bedroom again, but was silenced by the softest, daintiest little huff of a snore that Crowley had ever heard.

Azira was curled on her side, fast asleep.

And a brunette wig was askew beside her.

Crowley grinned. On closer inspection, Azira’s real hair was a riot of downy looking curls the color of moonbeams. It suited her perfectly. Crowley gently tugged the hideous wig out of the way and tossed it on the table, so that neither of them would get a face-full of it in their sleep. Careful not to wake her, she wiped away the drying mess on Azira’s thigh, then dropped the rag negligently on the floor.

She laid on the far side of the bed for a long while, listening to Azira’s soft little snores and feeling the head radiating from her body. She fought with herself.

In the end, she decided she might as well get her full money’s worth, and gave into her desire to curl up against Azira. Almost immediately, Azira’s body curved around her, practically enveloping her. Safe in the knowledge that no one would ever have to know about it, Crowley let out a sigh of contentment and sank into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note here - even though God in GO is a woman, I refer to both Azira and Crowley's parental figure as their father's, because 'heavenly father' is a more widely recognized term. No, they dont share a father in this story for obvious reasons, but the two men are very, very similar.
> 
> Also, the Hastur/Hester change is deliberate, not a spelling error.

Crowley woke as she usually did, with the sun. It seemed that no matter where on Earth she was, her body was programmed to wake at the first hint of sunlight. Which was a pain in the goddamn arse, but could occasionally be convenient.

The thing that was  _ different _ about this particular morning, was that she was deliciously warm and felt pillowed in the softest silk she’d ever felt.

And then the night before came back to her in an instant, and she didn’t know whether to curse herself the worst kind of fool, or congratulate herself on a job well done. Obviously, it had been a terrible decision. If the media got ahold of this story, they’d tear her to shreds.  _ Frigid CEO hires harlot on streets of LA. _ It would be a nightmare. She spared half a thought of what her father would think, then pushed it aside. She hoped it would give the old bastard a heart attack.

But on the other hand, Crowley could admit that she’d  _ needed _ this. She felt more relaxed, calmer, more settled, than she had in months. Years, maybe. She hadn’t realized how much the stress of her day to day hustle had been wearing at her. She’d needed the tension relief, and yes, she admitted in the privacy of her own head, she’d needed the unobtrusive companionship. She’d needed to touch and be touched, to hold and be held, in a setting where she could totally let her guard down.

So maybe it had been a bit of both, then. Good and bad. And it still might blow up in her face, but Crowley didn’t regret it.

She allowed herself to revel in the warmth of Azira’s body for another minute, then slipped out of the bed to start working.

***

An hour later, Crowley was dressed for the day in her sleek black power suit, hair wrapped into a severe chignon, and feet encased in thousand dollar stiletto heeled boots. She’d just finished a phone call and picked up the paper when Azira peeked out from the bedroom. She was wearing the plush hotel bathrobe, with one hand to her hair, still adorably mussed from sleep. When she saw Crowley watching her, she blushed.

“Not brunette…” she mumbled, embarrassed.

Crowley smiled. “This suits you far better.” With the toe of her boot, she pushed the chair across from her out in invitation. “Come eat. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered… everything.”

Azira’s eyes widened at the sight of the food spread out across the table. “All this is for  _ me?” _

“I had some work to get done this morning, so I’ve already eaten. Go on, then. Tuck in.”

Azira went to the table as if drawn to it, perched on the chair, and lifted the first colash. There were an assortment of scones beneath it, with lemon curd and clotted cream in little dishes beside them. She melted at the sight, as though they were the most rare delicacies. Glancing at Crowley furtively, she chose one and took a small bite.

“So, what do you do for work?”

Crowley put down the paper in favor of watching Azira eat. “I buy companies,” she said absentmindedly. Azira spooned a little bit of cream on her next bite. Crowley fought the urge to lean across the table and lick it off her lips.

“What kind of companies?”

“Companies that are in… financial distress.”

“Oh, so you get them at a discount then, that’s smart.”

Crowley laughed. “Well the company I’m buying this week I’m getting at the discounted price of about one billion.”

Azira choked on her scone. “A billion  _ dollars?” _ She gaped at Crowley, who nodded. “Wow. You must be incredibly smart.” She looked down at the next scone as if debating on eating it, and Crowley nudged it toward her encouragingly. She picked it up with a sigh. “I didn’t get to finish school, before I- well…” A bite of the scone disappeared in lieu of finishing her sentence. “How far did you go in school?”

“All the way.” And she’d hated every moment of it.

Azira nodded, like she’d expected nothing less. “Your parents must be very proud of you.”

Crowley could have laughed at that. Her father hadn’t been proud of her since she’d grown enough of a mind to think for herself. But that wasn’t exactly breakfast conversation. Instead, she poured Azira a cup of strong black tea.

“Thank you.”

Before Crowley could answer, her phone rang. She checked the caller ID and cursed softly. “I’ve got to take this. Eat as much as you like.”

“W-would you mind terribly if I used your bath before I go? I’ve never seen one so big.”

“Of course. Enjoy.”

Crowley forced herself not to think of what Azira would look like lounging in the oversized tub, surrounded by bubbles. She’d had her fun. Now she needed to get back to work. With a sigh, she turned away and answered her phone.

***

“Look, all I’m sayin’ is that you come across as-”

“Cold?” Crowley suggested, rolling her eyes.

“Well I was gonna say ‘frigid bitch’ but yeah, cold works too.”

At least Hester was being honest, even if he was being a dick about it. She wondered, for half a moment, why she kept him around - before reminding herself that he was a fucking viper when it came to legal matters, and she liked having him on her side instead of against her, despite his rough manner.

“I still don’t see what my lack of charming personality has to do with it. They don’t have to like me. They just have to sell to me.”

“You know as well ‘s I do that a hostile takeover’ll drag out for years. An’ as much as I love a dirty fight, if you sit on this one, someone else’ll swoop in and buy it out from under you. That ol’ man is stubborn enough to sell at a loss just to spite you.”

“Fuck.”

“Now there’s an idea. Go get yourself laid and then bring the bloke along to dinner. Play happy families with the ol’ man and soften ‘im up. Maybe someone who follows enough American sports to chat up the son so you don’t have him muckin’ up the process.”

_ “You’re my sunshine, and I want you to know that my feelings are truuuuuuue~” _

Crowley’s brows rose nearly to her hairline at the slightly off tune melody floating through from the bathroom.

“Look, you don’t even have to bang the bloke if that’s not your thing, just-”

_ “Ooooh you’re makin me live now, honey~” _

“-and then put on a good show, and bingo bango-”

“Shut up,” Crowley hissed at the phone, irritated at Hester’s grating voice interrupting the singing. Crowley walked over to the half open bathroom door and listened, bemused.

_ “I’m haaaaaapy at home, you’re my best friend~” _

“I’ll take care of it,” Crowley snapped, suddenly making either a very smart, or a very stupid decision.

“Wait, what’d you mean-”

Crowley hung up on him and went through the door.

_ “Whenever this world is cruel to me, I got you to help me for-” _ Azira’s eyes fluttered open, as if she could sense Crowley’s gaze on her, and she choked off her singing, sinking down into the thick blanket of bubbles. She pulled the ancient looking earphones off and offered a sheepish smile. “Everyone loves Queen, right?”

Crowley smirked. “Azira, I have a business proposition for you.” She sat on the edge of the tub, careful not to get water on her slacks.

“A- really?”

“I’m going to be in town until Sunday. I’d like you to spend the week with me.”

A slow, shy smile spread across Azira’s face. “Really?”

“Yes. I’d like to… hire you, as an employee.” Crowley saw Azira’s smile falter. She heard Hester’s words in her head.  _ Frigid bitch. _ Despite her profession, it was obvious that Azira was all sentiment. Crowley let just a little bit of pleading bleed into her tone. “Would you consider spending the week with me?” 

Azira’s face softened again. “As tempting as the offer is… you’re a rich, beautiful woman. You could get a million girls free.”

“I want a professional arrangement. I don’t need someone chasing after me all week, trying to impress me, or worse, thinking that getting into my pants will give them a leg up in business. I want someone who knows exactly what they’re getting from me, and I know exactly what I’m getting from them. No ulterior motives, no hidden agendas, no pressure.”

“Oh… well I suppose… this makes sense, then. But-” She paused, biting her lip. Crowley could practically  _ see _ her wheels turning, thinking about money, and her pimp. It grated on Crowley, that they couldn’t just work this out themselves, that Azira had to answer to someone else, someone who probably didn’t give a shit about her.

She handed Azira a towel to dry her hands, and then nodded to her phone. “Go ahead.”

Azira gratefully grabbed the phone and sent a text. Again, the reply was immediate. Azira paled visibly. Obviously the fucker she was working for knew she’d hooked someone with money. Crowley steeled herself for an outrageous figure.

“F-five thousand.”

Well, at least they didn’t seem to have a clue exactly  _ how _ rich Crowley was. “Done.”

Azira’s eyes widened to comic proportions, and her mouth dropped open.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes! I - yes, of course!” Azira gasped in a breath and choked on bubbles. With a smile, Crowley helped her wipe the bubbles from her face. 

“Good. And I’m going to have my assistant make us appointments at a local clinic. She’ll text you the time and location. I’m all for safe sex, but it’s a pain in the ass. Once we both get our results back, we’ll exchange them, and assuming all’s clear, we’ll ditch the dental dams, yeah?”

“Just for the week? After we’ve exchanged results?”

Crowley nodded.

“And - you won’t be…  _ seeing _ anyone else, while you’re in town?”

Crowley laughed. “No, angel. One of you is more than enough for me.”

“Alright then.”

Satisfied, Crowely went out to call her assistant.

***

Once Azira had dried off and was again wrapped in the fluffy robe, Crowley started pulling hundreds out of her wallet.

“I’ll be gone most of the day in meetings. We'll be going out a few evenings, and you’ll need something to wear.”

“Like what?” Azira’s eyes strayed to her discarded dress from the night before.

“Something… conservitave.” 

Azira flinched as if the word had been an insult. Maybe it had. Crowley handed her the stack of bills and then cupped the side of her face gently. “Something elegant,” she amended. “Something you like.” The hurt look fell away, and Azira nodded. “Any questions?”

Azira started to shake her head, then stopped. “Should I call you, if something comes up? Or, text?”

“Here.” Crowley reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. It had her office number back in London, as well as an email. But she fished out a pen and added her cell number below it. “You can reach me there, if you need anything.” 

Azira took the card and clutched it like a lifeline. 

Crowley was at the door before Azira spoke again. 

“Have a good day,” she said breathlessly, as though she had just worked up the courage to say it.

Crowley smiled. “You too, angel.”

***

Azira tried her best to ignore the stares she got as she walked through the hotel lobby. She hadn’t been a fan of the dress she was wearing to begin with, but she’d never felt so out of place in it before. Maybe if she could do what Michael kept telling her to, and dropped twenty pounds, it wouldn’t look so outrageous on her. Or if her coat was longer, like Crowley’s had been.

Maybe she could get one like that. Crowley had certainly given her enough money.

_ Something elegant, _ she’d said. Unfortunately, none of the run-down second hand stores that Azira usually frequented would provide anything of the sort. Instead, after her appointment at the clinic, she would head for a part of town she’d always avoided.

  
  


An hour and one routine swab later, the bus let Azira off in front of a store with a huge  _ Chanel _ sign above it. Even the parking meters looked fancy here. Azira remembered the way Crowley had looked at her when she said,  _ something you like. _ She steeled herself, picked out the least ritsy looking store, and headed inside.

***

Immediately, Azira knew that she was in over her head.

The dresses hanging on the racks looked delicate, almost too nice to  _ touch, _ and when she saw the first price tag, she flinched. Who paid this much for clothes?

A saleswoman came over, casting a not so subtle sneer at Azira’s appearance. She fought the urge to clench her coat closed.

“Can I… help you?”

Azira shook her head, turning back to the clothing racks.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

She started to say no again, and stopped herself. She really  _ could _ use the help. She had no idea what was in fashion, what would be appropriate for an evening out. What did that even mean, to a woman like Crowley?  _ Evening out _ could mean anything.

“I’m looking for something… elegant.”

The woman looked her up and down. “Ah.”

Azira blushed furiously, and for the thousandth time in her life, hated how easily she blushed. “You- you have very nice things.” She turned her face away, and pointed to the first dress she saw. “This one, maybe?”

“I don’t think that would fit you.”

The words landed like a physical blow. Azira knew what she looked like. She knew she would never be one of these willow-thin women, who could look effortlessly beautiful.

“M-maybe it could be altered. How much would that cost?”

The sales woman looked over to a second woman, who had come closer and was openly glaring at Azira. “How much would that be?” she asked.

The second woman pursed her lips. “Very expensive.”

“It’s very expensive,” the first woman parroted snidely, as though Azira might not have heard her.

Azira tried to rally herself. She wasn’t just idly shopping. She was buying something to wear for Crowley. “I have money.” She forced her voice not to waver.

“I don’t think we have anything for you,” the first woman said. “You’re obviously in the wrong place.”

The second woman stepped aside and held the door open, gesturing Azira out.

Her eyes burned, but Azira refused to cry in front of these cruel women. She was stronger than this. She tightened her grip on her purse and kept her head high as she walked out. She pretended not to hear the tittering laughter behind her.

She walked back to the hotel empty handed.

***

Azira was halfway through the lobby, still feeling small and defeated, when a couple in formal wear and name tags stopped her.

“Excuse me, miss, can we help you?” The woman’s voice was pleasant, but Azira had had enough of people asking her that.

“I’m just going up to my room,” she said quickly, trying to sidestep them.

“D’ya have a key?” the man asked, making Azira pause.

_ Drat! _

“I- I forgot that plastic thing in my room- I’m on the top floor.”

The man looked disbelieving. “You’re a guest here?”

“I’m with a friend.” Because, obviously, no one would believe she could rent the Penthouse. She couldn’t even buy a single dress. How on earth could she rent the Penthouse at the Regent Beverly Wilshire?

“And who’s your friend, dearie?” the woman asked.

Azira glanced at the woman’s name tag. Tracey. At least she seemed less threatening than the burly older man beside her. Azira inched closer to her. “Crowley.”

“Yer a personal guest of Ms Crowley?” The man’s disbelief deepened.

Oh, why did this have to be happening  _ now? _ Azira didn’t want to stand here any longer, getting stared at and whispered about, being talked down to. She didn’t want to have to call Crowley and tell her that not only did she fail to get a dress, but she couldn’t even make it back up to the room.

The doorman passed by, returning a luggage carousel. Azira pointed to him desperately. “He knows me!”

“Newt!”

The doorman jumped, then hurried over and stood at attention. “Yes, Mr Shadwell, sir?”

“You recognize this woman?”

Thankfully, Newt nodded. “She came in last night with Ms Crowley, sir.” Shadwell stared at him, like he wasn’t going to believe his own employee, then nodded and tightened the young man’s tie to what looked like painful stiffness.

“Thank you, dear. Run along now.” Tracey patted the doorman on the arm kindly. Just when Azira thought she could make her escape, Tracey looped her arm through Azira’s and steered them toward a closed door at the back of the lobby. Shadwell marched after them.

Azira wasn’t one for cursing, but she said several explicit words in her head.

***

“What is yer name, young lady?” Shadwell demanded sternly as soon as Azira was sitting in what was clearly a well used office.

Azira debated not replying, but ended up squeaking out, “Azira.”

“Thank you, Miss Azira.” Tracey pulled up a chair and sat beside Azira, while Shadwell loomed over them.

“Now listen here,  _ Miss Azira,” _ Shadwell boomed, the ‘if that even is your name’ very clear in his tone, “things that happen in other hotels don’t happen in the Regent Beverly Wilshire.”

They could see right through her. Azira looked down at her coat, half expecting a scarlet A to be stitched there. Did everyone know just by looking at her?

“But o’course, Ms Crowley is a very special customer.”

“And,” Tracey continued for him, “we like to think of our special customers as friends.”

“As a customer, we’d expect Ms Crowley to sign in any additional  _ guests.”  _

“But as a friend, we’re willing to overlook it,” Tracey added, patting Azira’s knee. “Especially since we’re guessing you’re her…  _ sister?” _

Azira grabbed onto the excuse and nodded. “Yes.”

“So when Ms Crowley leaves, we won’t be seeing you in this hotel again.” Shadwell didn’t make it a question. “Assumin’ you don’t have any other  _ sisters _ in town.”

Azira shook her head, chastened.

“Good. Then we understand each other.” Shadwell turned away, dismissing her.

“And if you don’t mind, dearie, I’d suggest a change of clothes.” 

It was the only kindness Azira had gotten since Crowley left that morning, even if it was condescending, and Azira broke down, tears filling her eyes that she wiped away brusquely.

“That’s what I was trying to do! I went to Rodeo Drive to get a  _ dress, _ and the women wouldn’t  _ help _ me, and now I’ve got all the money Crowley gave me, and  _ no dress _ and I don’t know what to do! Not that I expect you to help me, but I have money and no one- will- help me.” She choked back a sob and put her face in her hands.

Something soft brushed her wrist, and Azira looked up to see Shadwell holding a handkerchief out to her, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

As she took it and wiped her eyes, Tracey stood and went to the phone. For a moment, Azira thought she was going to call the police, but when the line connected, she said, “women’s clothing, please.” There was a pause, and then she added, “Mrs Tibbins, please.” Another pause. “Oh Mrs Tibbins, good afternoon, it’s Madam Tracy at the Regent Beverly Wilshire. I was wondering if you could do a favor for me. I’m sending someone over, her name is Azira. She’s… a special guest. The sister of a very special guest.”

Tracey winked at her, and Azira smiled through her tears.

***

At the store Madam Tracey and Shadwell had directed her to, Azira was greeted immediately by Mrs Tibbins. She was tall, rotund, and impeccably dressed.

“So,” she said jovially, “what are you dressing for?”

“Dinner, I think.” Azira wasn’t sure what Crowley had planned for the week, but she was sure that somewhere in  _ evening events, _ dinner was included.

“Well then, you’re going to need a cocktail dress. I’m sure we can find something you’ll love.” She ushered Azira through the store, eyeing her speculatively. “You’re about a sixteen, aren’t you?”

Azira blinked in surprise. “I am. How could you tell?”

Mrs Tibbins laughed. “That’s my job!”

***

Two hours later, Azira returned to the hotel with a beautiful, perfectly tailored cocktail dress in a bag draped over her arm. She’d gotten her test results already - which had to be a product of excess money, because she’d  _ never _ gotten them back that fast before - and ten minutes after she’d forwarded them to Crowley, she’d gotten Crowley’s results as well. Unsurprisingly, they were both clear. Azira forced herself  _ not _ to think of what that meant for the coming evening while she was walking through the well lit hotel lobby. 

Madam Tracey fell into step beside her, this time with a smile on her face.

“Everything go alright?”

“It did.”

“Very glad to hear it, dear. We did get a message while you were out. Ms Crowley asked if you could be dressed and meet her in the lounge when she returns at six.”

“Oh, well thank you.” Azira took the spare key Tracey handed her. “And… thank you. For-” She waved generally, assuming Tracey would understand.

Tracey patted her arm. “Don’t mention it.”

***

Crowley was late. She hated being late. She hated meetings like that one, with slimy businessmen and slimy politicians and the stench of greed so pungent in the air that it was a surprise everyone didn’t choke on it. She wanted nothing more than to cancel dinner, take Azira back up to bed, and lose herself in that lush softness for several hours.

“Excuse me, Ms Crowley.”

One of the hotel’s managers, Shadwell, stood in Crowley’s path.

“Yes?”

“I have a message for you, Miss. From yer  _ sister.” _

Crowley’s eyebrow rose. “You must be mistaken. I’m an only child.”

“An adopted sibling, then? The young lady staying in yer room, Miss.”

His tone left no doubt that he knew Azira was  _ not _ Crowley’s sister, and that he also knew her profession. Crowley wasn’t sure she wanted to know how he’d come by the knowledge.

“Adopted. Yes. What’s the message?”

“She’s still waiting for you in the lounge.”

“Thank you.”

Crowley swept past him, boot heels clicking against the tile as she crossed the room in determined strides. When she got to the entry to the lounge, she stopped, searching for Azira.

And there she was, impossible to miss, her ethereally pale hair in tousled curls. Her back was to Crowley, exposing the long sweep of her spine, visible in the low backed dress. As if she could sense Crowley’s eyes on her, Azira turned. She saw Crowley and stood, smiling.

Crowley’s breath caught.

Her face was washed clean, all traces of the makeup from the night before gone. Her dress was a dusky gold, moulded to her figure and draped a in ruched sheer material that allowed her modesty. It ended just below her knees. Delicate gold kitten heels completed the outfit.

Crowley could only stand, and stare, as she walked up.

“You’re late,” she whispered when she was at Crowley’s side.

“You’re stunning,” Crowley replied.

Azira smiled brilliantly. “You’re forgiven.”

Finally, Crowley’s brain came back online. She extended her elbow to Azira. “Shall we go to dinner?”

Azira nodded, shyly slipping her arm through Crowley’s.

***

The maitre'd led them through the restaurant, where Mr Young and his son Adam were waiting.

With each step they took Crowley could feel Azira tensing further. “You’ll be fine,” she assured. Azira didn’t seem convinced.

“Mr Young,” Crowley greeted, shaking the old man’s hand.

“Crowley,” Mr Young returned. “You know my son, Adam?”

Crowley shook the son’s hand, then gestured to Azira. “This is my friend, Azira Fell.”

They both shook her hand, murmuring  _ pleasure to meet you _ ’s. Both men were affected by Azira’s presence, but Adam in particular seemed charmed. Crowley fought the urge to snap at him like an errant schoolboy.

Once pleasantries were out of the way and the meal ordered, Adam turned on Crowley, ready for a brawl. He was clearly not in agreement with his father’s thoughts about selling. It was a family company, had been that way for generations, and Crowley’s reputation for ruthlessly tearing companies apart preceded her.

It hadn’t escaped Crowley’s notice that beside her, Azira seemed to be struggling. When the horderves were served, she stared despondently at her cutlery, as if it were entirely foreign. Crowley pointedly picked up her own shrimp fork, but before she could get Azira’s attention discreetly, Adam demanded her attention again. He nattered on about the people who worked at the company, some of whom he’d known his whole life.

Mr Young looked between Adam and Crowley, staying out of the debate. He looked aside at Azira, who was still hesitating over her forks. “I don’t know about you, but these fancy places always confuse me. I just eat with my fingers.” As if to show he wasn’t simply teasing her, he picked up the tiny stacked cracker, and popped it in his mouth.

Azira giggled, glanced around conspiratorially, and did the same.

It was the highlight of the dinner.

Things devolved quickly after that. Adam was relentless, trying to dig into Crowley at every turn. Crowley wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t long before Adam’s temper began to flare. Despite the fact that there couldn’t be more than a decade between them, Crowley couldn’t help but see Adam as an indignant little boy with too much power. He was trying to use strong arm tactics on Crowley that she had practically  _ invented. _ It wasn’t an even fight, and they both knew it. The more Adam - and his father’s - position became clear, the more hostile he became.

When Crowley had had enough and pulled out her trump card - that the company simply didn’t have enough money to buy out the shares she already owned - Adam threw down his napkin and walked out. Mr Young sat for a moment, looking between Crowley, and Azira, who was trying to find the trick to eating escargot. Then he sighed.

“He might be hot tempered, but he’s mine, and I’m proud of him.” He stood up. “Can your father say the same of you?”

Crowley didn’t dignify the question with an answer. She just stared back at the man, face impassive. Mr Young looked over to Azira.

“I hope you have a pleasant rest of your night, Miss Fell.”

He walked out.

***

Crowley let out a long, slow breath once both men were out of sight.

_ Well that could have gone better. _

She was startled out of her thoughts by Azira’s hand resting lightly on her arm.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

Crowley nodded, surprisingly touched by the gesture. Such a simple thing, that one little question. But when was the last time anyone had bothered to ask her that? She made it her job to show no weakness, but it was as if Azira could see through her.

“I understood why Adam was so upset about his dad’s company, but what Mr Young said about your father was inappropriate and cruel.”

“I’m trying to tear apart his life’s work. I’m sure he thinks I’m cruel.”

“One wrong turn doesn’t deserve another. He shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

Who was this soft spoken angel who was pulling Crowley apart from the inside out? There was a part of Crowley, the part that had been defending itself for years beyond counting, that screamed at her to get rid of this distraction. She couldn’t afford even the smallest weakness. And though Azira had done her part at dinner beautifully, she  _ was _ a weakness. She brought out things in Crowley that she thought she’d mastered and dismissed long ago. There was a softness in Azira, one that seemed impossible considering her lot in life, and that softness called out a similar softness in Crowley.

Deep down, Crowley was starting to feel  _ bad _ for the Youngs.

What would it have been like, to have a father like Mr Young? One who supported his child, who worked with him instead of undermining him, who wanted to leave something meaningful for him.

“D’you want to get out of here?” Crowley suddenly asked.

Azira looked down at her plate. It was half full of snails. Even Crowley, who was fond of escargot, could see that it looked unappealing. Azira peeked back up at Crowley, and gave her a shy smile. She nodded.

“C’mon. There’s gotta be a place to get a quiet cup of tea around here somewhere.”

  
  


***

They walked down the street arm in arm for several blocks until they came across a little coffee shop. They were both wildly overdressed, and the tea was only mediocre, but it was quiet, and Crowley was able to relax.

She’d been taking risks the last few days, allowing herself to feel things she hadn’t in a long time,  _ wanting _ things she hadn’t in a long time. All because of the woman across from her, delicately sipping tea. It made no sense. Plenty of high powered men and women, people that shared her ambition and her education, had tried to get under Crowley’s skin. Some people had even  _ paid _ others to try it, hoping to gain some business advantage.

No one had even come close.

And now, a prostitute from Beverly Hills was setting Crowley’s world on fire.

Crowley needed some perspective.

“So who do you have waiting for you?”

Azira looked up from her tea. “Pardon?”

“Your-” Crowley couldn’t quite bring herself to say  _ pimp. _ “The person you keep texting. About… business.”

“Oh, Michael! My brother.”

Crowley choked on the drink of tea she’d just taken. “Your  _ brother?” _

Azira smiled and nodded.

Crowley put down her cup, as though it might be making her misunderstand. She tried again, to clarify. “Your brother is your pimp?”

Azira flinched, and Crowley hated it, but she  _ couldn’t _ be hearing that right.

“I- I wouldn’t put it that way.”

Crowley narrowed her eyes. “How would you put it, then?”

“He just… handles things, for me. I’m not the smartest, and my brothers and sisters, they’re the ones better suited to thinking. I just… do my part.”

Crowley glared. She glared, because if she wasn’t glaring, she was pretty sure she’d be gaping like a trout. There was so much to unpack from those few sentences.

“Back up for me, angel. Maybe I’m missing something here. We’ll come back to the  _ I’m not the smartest _ statement, because if I start on how rubbish that is, I’m not going to be able to stop for a long time. So. Your brothers  _ and _ sisters. Manage - your nightlife.”

“Well, not all of them, of course. There are only a few of us living in LA.”

“How many siblings do you  _ have?” _

Azira chuckled. “Oh, dozens.” When both of Crowley’s brows went up to her hairline, Azira continued. “We’re all adopted, you see. My father is something of a philanthropist, you could say. He takes in children and gives them a family.”

Already, Crowley was picturing someone who was a cross between Daddy Warbucks and a blood-diamond slave driver.

“So you and your  _ siblings _ live here now, and- what? You’re their source of income?”

“They work too,” Azira defended.  _ “We’ve all got our part, _ Michael says. Uriel still works on cars like she did back home, Sandy manages a nightclub, and Gabe finds other children that Father could help and sends them home to become part of the family.”

_ What. The. Fuck. _

“So -  _ why _ are you working as a prostitute?”

Azira blushed and fidgeted with her napkin. “I’m not… talented, like the others. I don’t have any  _ skills, _ at least nothing that would help with a  _ real _ job. Maybe it’s not the most pleasant, or the most glamorous, but it’s how I can contribute.”

“Your philanthropist ‘father’ couldn’t help out? Get you an education, even a job at a fucking Starbucks?”

“Michael says he helps us by letting us help ourselves.”

“So he approves of this?”

“Of course.” A little frown flitted across Azira’s face, and she slumped in her seat. “At least, I’m mostly sure he does. I… I haven’t actually talked to him in a long time. But my oldest brother Micha takes Father’s calls, and he always passes along his regards.”

Crowley wanted to vomit. “That doesn’t sound like a family, angel. It sounds like a bloody  _ cult.” _

Azira blanched, and then her face colored sharply. “Don’t insult my family,” she said sternly. Crowley wanted to push. She wanted to tear that story apart, exposing the holes in it, the outrageously flawed logic, to  _ force _ Azira to see just how fucking twisted it all was.

But Azira was a grown woman making her own decisions. Those people were clearly bastards who were using Azira, but she saw them as her family, and Crowley- Crowley didn’t have any claim on Azira beyond the end of the week.

“Alright, angel.” She sighed, and texted her driver to come pick them up.

***

Crowley took the desk chair and put it in the doorway to the balcony, not  _ on _ the balcony, but facing its view. She sprawled in it bonelessly. The night air felt good against her face, and if she closed her eyes, she could pretend that she wasn’t in a penthouse in LA, but in her back garden at home.

Although the smog and smell of exhaust were putting a damper on things.

“Crowley?”

She opened her eyes as Azira stepped out onto the balcony, having taken off her heels and removed the pins from her hair. “I thought you didn’t come out here,” she said softly.

“I’m not.” Crowley pointed to the fact that the chair was still half in the room. “I’m just-” She stopped, not entirely sure  _ what _ she was doing. Longing for home? Thinking about how shit the world is? Wishing that she were someone else, and Azira was someone else, and that everything was different?

“You were quiet on the drive back,” Azira ventured quietly. She seemed so unsure of herself. Or unsure how Crowley would react to her. Despite the fact that she stood by what she’d said, Crowley hated that she’d put that doubt in Azira’s eyes.

“Just thinking about dinner,” she lied. “The Youngs are gonna put up one hell of a fight.”

“Adam seemed passionate about it, certainly.” Azira settled herself against the ledge, oblivious to the way Crowley’s heart leapt into her throat at her position. “But he obviously loves his father’s company, and wants it to continue. You’re going to take it. And as much as they might hate that, I don’t see you as a woman who doesn’t get her way often. I don’t think it’s the fight you’re not happy about.”

“Oh?” Crowley couldn’t say more without her voice sounding dangerously cracked. Adrenaline was tingling along her skin, and her breath was coming fast. It would be so easy for Azira to lean back too far, to lose her balance, to fall-

“I think, maybe, the problem is that you like them a little.”

Azira leaned forward, studying Crowley’s face. Crowley’s blood pressure dropped a little with Azira not so close to the ledge. She shook her head. 

“Whether I like them or not is irrelevant. I refuse to allow my personal feelings affect business matters.”

Azira continued studying her for another moment, then nodded. “I can understand that. Michael always tells me not to get emotionally involved with - what I do. It’s why I don’t kiss on the mouth. It helps me stay unattached, to keep my mind turned off and just  _ do _ it.”

Some of Crowley’s emotions - sympathy, distaste, anger - must have shown on her face, because Azira blushed and quickly went on, “except with you, of course.”

Crowley huffed out a hollow laugh. “Of course.”

Azira sighed and leaned back against the railing again, letting her head tip back out over the yawning emptiness. Crowley’s heart rate doubled, and her vision began to blur at the edges as she stared at Azira, hyper-focused, waiting for any sign that she might fall-

“Stop it,” she hissed suddenly, unable to take it anymore.

Azira jumped, startled by the vehemence in Crowley’s voice. She swayed, and Crowley instantly leaped forward and snatched her away from the railing.

“Get away from there!”

“Crowley, what-”

“I’m not going to let you fall,” she snapped.

“Fall? Crowley-” Azira looked at where they were standing, near the railing, then at Crowley, whose face was flushed and chest was rising and falling sharply. Even her hands were shaking. Something seemed to click in her mind, because rather than pull back, she pressed close, wrapped her arms around Crowley, and hugged her. “Before, when you said you fell, you didn’t just mean a minor accident, did you?”

“No,” Crowley admitted, just shaken enough to share the truth. “I was young, and stupid, and up somewhere I shouldn’t have been. And I fell. I spent three weeks in the hospital, and three months in physical rehab.”

“Oh Crowley, I’m so sorry.” Azira reached up and gently touched her face. “I’m sorry no one was there to help you.”

“There was someone there,” Crowley said bitterly.

“What?”

“My  _ father _ saw the whole thing. He watched me climb up, and he watched me fall. And when I was on the ground, sobbing, he leaned over me and said,  _ ‘I hope you learned your lesson.’ _ And I did. Just not the lesson he was trying to teach. I learned I could never trust him - and that I couldn’t count on anyone to save me.”

“That’s a terrible lesson for a child to learn,” Azira whispered.

“It’s a terrible lesson for anyone to learn. And if I can keep you from having to learn it, I will.”

Azira nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Crowley.” Crowley inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Why don’t we go back in? We could put on an old movie, get another one of those delightful snack trays…”

“Thanks, angel, but I think I need some air. Another night.”

She kissed Azira’s forehead, turned, and left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley went down to the lounge. It was technically closed for the night, and deserted except for the cleaning people. Her boot heels clicked loudly against the tile, echoing through the room. She passed a fifty to the man mopping the floor, he nodded to her, and then with a gesture from him, all the cleaning crew filed out.

There was a piano on a low platform across from the bar. It was a baby grand, not as fine as the one she’d learned to play on, but enough to invoke memories. Of the times before she’d learned to question her father’s will. Laboriously learning piano, violin, harp. Playing more and more complicated pieces in a futile attempt to please him. To make him proud.

Occasionally, Crowley still enjoyed playing. Even after all these years, she could have plucked out the most complex piece of Chopin or Tchaikovsky. Instead, she started playing Velvet Underground. Because she liked it. And because fuck her father. And all worthless fathers. 

She let her fingers linger on the keys, drawing out  _ Pale Blue Eyes, _ thinking of Azira’s eyes.

She played, and she played, and she played.

***

Crowley paused when she heard the door to the lounge open and then click closed. She had no idea how long she’d been playing, but judging by the way her fingers ached, it had been a long time.

She kept going.

A moment later, delicate bare feet came into the periphery of her vision. Azira stood uncertainly by the piano, wrapped up in the hotel robe.

“You should be asleep,” Crowley murmured.

Azira reached out, laying a hand softly on Crowley’s shoulder. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Okay?  _ Was _ Crowley okay? Had she ever really been okay?

Instead of answering, she pulled Azira forward until she was between Crowley and the piano. A sharp scale of notes echoed through the room as Azira was tugged down the length of the keys. Crowley stared up at her, half wondering  _ what the hell are you, _ half wondering  _ where the hell have you been all my life. _

Azira didn’t say anything. She just looked right back.

Crowley loosed the belt of the robe. The lapels of it slipped, then fell away, revealing a pale gold bustier and lace knickers the same color. Crowley’s breath caught. White wings and a halo were all that was missing. “Angel,” she breathed helplessly.

She was drawn, as though against her will, though she never would have even considered denying the urge, to Azira’s lips. She leaned in, aching to taste them. At the last moment, Azira pulled back. Crowley made an impatient sound and threaded her fingers through Azira’s silken hair, hauling her closer, desperate to kiss her, to learn the taste of her tongue, to drink in each sound of pleasure-

Azira tipped Crowley’s face to the side, and her lips ended up landing on Crowley’s throat. And then Crowley remembered.  _ Not on the mouth. _ To keep things from getting too personal, to keep emotions from being involved.

But they already  _ were. _ Crowley was drowning in them, and if she was, then she was bloody well going to make sure that Azira was as well.

She lifted Azira by the backs of her thighs, sitting her on top of the piano. Discordant notes rang in the air around them. Placing kisses down Azira’s throat, across the valley of her breasts, along her sternum, Crowley urged Azira back until she was laying on the piano lid, spread out like an offering.

If that was the case, Crowley was happy to be the demon Azira was being sacrificed to. She was going to  _ devour _ her.

Crowley pressed Azira’s thighs wider and pulled the damp knickers to the side. With a quick glance up to make sure Azira was ready, Crowley lowered her mouth.

Azira’s taste exploded across Crowley’s tongue. She was sweet, and tart, and shocked Crowley’s senses as only the finest champagne does. With quick little licks and long slow strokes, Crowley set about learning exactly what would drive Azira wild. What would make her come undone. What would leave her gasping and shattered beneath Crowley.

The sounds Azira made were going straight to Crowley’s clit. Each stifled little mewl of pleasure made her throb. She sounded like she was shocked, like she was overwhelmed. Crowley wondered when the last time she’d had her pussy eaten was - or if she’d  _ ever _ had it done. And the thought sent a wild rush of possessiveness through Crowley.  _ She _ could do it. She could bring the innocent temptress to climax on her tongue.

As Crowley continued, Azira’s hips started straining helplessly. Her thighs shook. Her clit  _ throbbed. _ Crowley dropped her hands, which had been relentlessly toying with Azira’s nipples. She slid one had down to press two fingers into Azira, curling them up to her g-spot and rubbing. The other she allowed to slip into her own pants. The taste, the smell, the  _ sounds _ of Azira already had her close. She rubbed her clit in time with the flicks of her tongue.

As she got closer to her own climax, she couldn’t stop moans from escaping her. They vibrated against Azira, and seemed to spur her on.

“C-Crowley, I-”

The breathless desperation in Azira’s voice told Crowley everything she needed to know. She kept going, maintaining that same relentless pace, the same pattern that had Azira so close.

And then there was a  _ thunk _ of Azira’s head falling back against the piano, her thighs snapping closed around Crowley’s ears, her body clenching sharply as her orgasm took her. Crowley moaned again, the taste of Azira exploding across her tongue anew, and let herself come as well.

Slowly, bit by bit, Azira’s thighs fell away, and her breathing returned to normal. Crowley gave her one last lick just to see her pulse with pleasure, and pulled back. She wiped her mouth, not even bothering to stifle her wicked, satisfied smile.

“Oh my  _ lord,” _ Azira whispered.

“C’mon, let’s get you up to bed.”

Azira struggled to sit up, the robe still gaping open around her. “Good heavens, I’m not sure I can even  _ walk.” _

Crowley chuckled. “I’ll carry you if I have to.”

Azira looked pointedly at Crowley’s whip-thin frame, and then down at her own curvy figure. She raised a brow.

“Want me to show you?” Crowley stepped forward, arms out to scoop Azira up, but Azira squeaked and scrambled off the piano, apparently not keen on the idea of being carried.

“No, no, I can do it!” She managed to find her feet, thought she swayed a little. Crowley belted the robe around her securely. She was just about to turn, when suddenly Azira bit her lip and caught Crowley’s hand. “I- I should return the favor.”

“What, carrying me? I don’t think so-”

“No…” Azira brought up her hand and let one knuckle graze down Crowley’s belly and settle against the apex of her thighs.

Crowley chuckled. “Usually I’m all for multiple orgasms, but I think just the one will be fine tonight.”

“Oh! You already-”

“Trust me, I  _ thoroughly _ enjoyed myself.”

_ “Oh. _ Well then…” She smiled shyly. Crowley slung an arm around her waist.

“C’mon. I dunno about you, but I’m knackered.”

Azira nodded, and they made their way up to their room.

***

“Rise and shine, angel,” Crowley called, already freshly showered and dressed for the day. On a whim, she’d left down her long red hair, letting it settle in waves to her lower back. She was fixing the buttons on her snug black blouse as she walked back into the bedroom, where Azira was sprawled bonelessly in the bed.

Azira groaned pitifully.

“You’ve got more shopping to do.” Crowley sat on the edge of the bed as she pulled on her Louboutin stiletto boots.

Azira groaned again, this time more pointedly. She pulled the blanket up over her head, and Crowley tugged it back down.

“Really, I’m surprised you only got one dress yesterday. You know you’ll need more than that.”

Azira mumbled something into the pillows.

“What was that?”

“They were mean to me,” Azira repeated, head finally turned toward Crowley.

_ “Mean _ to you?”

Azira nodded, pulling the covers back up like armour against the memory. “If Madam Tracey and Shadwell hadn’t helped yesterday, I wouldn’t even have ended up with the one dress.”

Crowley made a mental note to thank the managers personally, and then studied Azira. She was beautiful, sweet, hopelessly polite. Who could be mean to her? But Crowley remembered the picture she made in the dress she’d been wearing that first day. She could imagine what the shop keepers had thought, and how they’d treated her because of that.

Suddenly, she made a decision. She grabbed her phone and dialed her assistant.

“Bea, cancel all my appointments for the morning. Yes, all of them. Reschedule. I’m going shopping.”

***

Crowley picked the biggest, nicest shop on the road and marched them inside. When a worker asked if she could help them, she immediately demanded to see the manager.

A moment later, a plain looking man stepped out. He looked more like a mail carrier than a high-end store manager, to Crowley, but she just shrugged.

“Yes, ladies, how can I help you? I’m Simon Morrells, the manager.”

Crowley shook his hand, a firm, no-nonsense grip to set the tone of the encounter. “Do you this young lady here?” She gestured to Azira. “Do you have anything in this shop as beautiful as she is?”

“Oh yes,” Mr Morrells said, then flinched when Crowley’s eyebrow rose. “Oh  _ no. _ I mean, we have many things as beautiful - ah, as she would  _ want _ them to be. Yes. That’s what I meant. Of course-”

Crowley decided to take mercy on the man. She pulled him aside. “You know what we’re going to need here, is more people helping us. Because, Mr Morrells, we’re going to be spending an obscene amount of money in this store. So we’re going to need a lot more people out here to cater to her every whim.”

Mr Morrells nodded eagerly, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes.

He quickly rounded up all of his sales associates and set them providing options for Azira to try on as well as getting out catalogues of things that could be ordered.

Crowley settled back in a chair to make some calls, content to watch the action. Occasionally, Azira would hold something up to herself and glance at Crowley for her opinion. Some of them were obviously not her style, but more often than not, Crowley gave approving nods.

Crowley had just finished a call with Hester when Azira came out of the fitting room in a simple white sundress.

She was fairly certain there was steam coming out of her ears.

Without looking away, she whipped out her credit card and held it up to the nearest sales woman. “We’ll take it,” she said.

By the fitting room door, Azira blushed. “C-Crowley…”

“Trust me, angel.”

Azira nodded shyly and went back in to try on a different outfit.

_ Okay now, time to stop drooling and get some actual work done. _ Crowley pushed to her feet and rebuttoned her jacket. If she let herself, she would spend all day watching Azira try on different outfits, and get absolutely nothing else accomplished. As much as she  _ wanted _ to do that, the situation with the Youngs required her attention.

When Azira came out of the fitting room again, Crowley forced herself to nod approvingly instead of gape. The pale pink chiffon floated around Azira’s body like a cloud. 

“The store has my credit card. Get everything you want, and when you’re done here, don’t forget the card, and go to any other store you want.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t put off work any longer. But have fun.” She leaned in close, so she could whisper in Azira’s ear. “I can’t wait to see what else you come back with. And what you buy to go  _ under _ them.” Azira blushed prettily. Crowley kissed her forehead and turned away.

On her way out, she caught Mr Morrells by the elbow and pulled him aside. “Do you know who I am?” She asked him mildly.

He fidgeted. “I  _ may _ have done a quick Google search.”

“Good.” That meant he knew - as much as Google knew - how rich she was. And how  _ influential _ she was. “I expect her to leave happy, understand?”

“Yes sir! I mean, ma’am! She will! Definitely. No doubt-”

Crowley patted his shoulder to shut him up, smirked, and left the store.

***

Azira felt like a princess. Never once in her life had it been  _ all about her. _ The sales people were doing their best to impress  _ her, _ to make  _ her _ happy. It was definitely a feeling she could get used to.

She left the shop in one of her new dresses, with a single bag in her hand, the rest of her purchases set aside to be delivered to the hotel, and the manager’s chattering assurance that they would be overjoyed to provide anything further that she might need.

With newfound confidence, she visited an intimates store next, and spent two solid hours picking out delicate, femnine underthings that she hoped would make Crowley give her the same stunned stare she’d given when Azira had tried on the white dress.

After that came a shoe store, where she discovered that high heels actually  _ weren’t _ that uncomfortable, when they were fitted to her feet properly.

She stopped into a haberdashery, too, because she’d seen a scarf in the window that she thought Crowley would like. It was braided silver, not a necktie, not a necklace, but something somewhere in between. The least she could do when she was spending Crowley’s money was come back with something for  _ her, _ too.

Once she was back on the street, she was already thinking about how she’d give it to Crowley, and how much they’d  _ both _ enjoy it. She was so preoccupied with the thought that she almost missed a step when she realized what store she was standing in front of. She immediately recognized the fancy dresses in the window, as well as the sales woman standing at the back counter.

She knew she should just walk by. There was no reason for her to go in. No reason to revisit past hurt, or to prove a point, or be so petty as to rub her purchases in their faces.

Well, maybe a little pettiness wouldn’t hurt.

She walked into the store, past the woman standing at the door, straight back to the one she recognized from the day before.

“Hello,” she said brightly. “Remember me? I was in yesterday, and you wouldn’t wait on me.”

She watched as realization dawned on the woman’s face.

“Would I be correct in assuming that you work on commission?”

“Y-yes…”

Azira slightly lifted the many bags in her arms, her smile turning pitying. “How… unfortunate for you.” She turned to walk away. “If you’ll excuse me, I have more shopping to do.” With a grin, she sauntered out of the store.

***

Crowley felt the tension leave her shoulders the moment she opened the hotel room door. There was soft music playing, and the lights were dim. A faint floral perfume wafted through the air. She dropped her bag and stepped inside.

Azira was waiting for her at the candle-lit dinner table, wearing nothing but silver heels and a silver neck-scarf, which she was running seductively through her fingers.

“Nice,” Crowley commented, nodding toward it. She was very proud that she’d managed not to choke on the word, or drool around it.

Azira smiled. “I got it for you.”

Oh, it was going to be a good night.

***

Oversized bathtubs had never really appealed to Crowley before, but she was quickly changing her mind on the matter. Azira was behind her, with Crowley reclining between her thighs. A warm sponge brushed softly along Crowley’s arms, across her collar bones, down her sternum, as Azira washed her. If Crowley was any more comfortable, she would melt into a puddle.

“It wasn’t any real loss,” she said, still not quite sure how they’d gotten onto the subject of her father again. “I may have struggled for a while, when he cast me off, but then I found my own two feet. I  _ made _ something of myself. I didn’t need him. I didn’t need his fancy house, his rules, his hyperfixation on perfection. I was angry with him, I still am, but it’s… less, now. He’s a petty little king of a petty little empire, and I’m glad that I got out.”

Azira dropped a kiss on Crowley’s shoulder. “I’m glad, too.”

“Hester and Ligur - hell, even my assistant, Bea, keep pushing me to take over his company. Break it apart and throw away the pieces. But it would start a war, and too many innocent people would get hurt in the process. Thousands of people would lose their jobs, maybe even their homes, just so I could get revenge.” She shook her head. “It’s not worth that.”

Azira was quiet for a long time. Then she pressed another kiss to Crowley’s shoulder and said, “You’re a nice person, Crowley.”

Crowley turned and flashed her teeth at Azira in a half-heartedly menacing grimace. “Don’t call me  _ nice,” _ she hissed.

Azira laughed. “Of course not, dear.”

***

Azira excused herself from the bath first, and when Crowley finished drying off and went to the bedroom, she found out why.

The outfit Azira was wearing had been pulled directly from Crowley’s fantasies. It was a long silk nightgown, the same color as her hair. The bodice was fitted to Azira’s ample bosom, enhancing her cleavage, and the hem of it fell in soft swirls around her bare feet. The material was so delicate that Crowley could see the barest hint of her knickers. Crowley suspected they would be deliciously tiny.

Without preamble, Crowley knelt on the floor at Azira’s feet and slid her hand beneath the hem of the gown. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her hand up. Her lips followed in its wake, kissing each inch of exposed flesh.

The panties were, indeed, as small as Crowley had hoped. Barely more than a scrap of silk that provided only a sliver of modesty. Crowley kissed the material, then let her head drop forward until she was resting her face against the softness of Azira’s belly. She breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of her.

“My dear?” Azira whispered, a thread of uncertainty in her voice.

Crowley nuzzled her closer for a moment, then stood. She held out her hand in invitation. “Come to bed with me?”

“Gladly.”

Once they were settled on the bed, Crowley pulled Azira into her arms. She traced the column of Azira’s throat, over the fluttering pulse, then down to the swell of her breasts. With gentle touches, she caressed the fullness of them.

“Tell me what you like,” Crowley murmured.

Azira looked up at her from beneath those impossibly long lashes. “You.”

Crowley chuckled. “As flattering as that is… tell me how you like to be touched.”

“Oh-” Azira blushed. “I… I don’t know, exactly.” When Crowley looked at her in shock, she went on. “Self exploration was… discouraged. And with customers...”

There were many,  _ many _ things Crowley wanted to say about that. None of them were nice, and none of them would be helpful in their current situation. Instead, she took a deep breath to calm herself. “So, you’ve never…?”

Azira’s blush deepened to a bright scarlet. “There may… have been a few times that I-” She stuttered to a stop.

“Pleasured yourself?”

She nodded, unable to meet Crowley’s eyes. Crowley took Azira’s hand in hers, then put their joined hands between Azira’s legs. “Show me,” she whispered. “Show me what feels good.”

Hesitantly, Azira obeyed. She bit her lip and turned her face away, but her fingers began to move, taking Crowley’s with them. It was a gentle stroke, mostly to the sides of her clit rather than the top of it, as though it were too sensitive for direct stimulation. Crowley kissed down Azira’s throat and moved to her breasts, sucking first one peak and then the other into her mouth. If the wetness that bloomed beneath their fingers and Azira’s moans were any indication, she liked the attention.

With thrilling speed, Azira wound closer and closer to completion. She clutched the sheets with her free hand, and started whispering Crowley’s name on each breath. “Crowley…. Crowley…  _ Crowley!” _ She shuddered through her orgasm, tensing and releasing, whimpering softly, and then finally went boneless. Her eyes were shining when she opened them, dazed with pleasure and wonder.

“I’ve never… never-”

“Done that before?” Crowley supplied.

“Not with anyone else. Last night and tonight… I - I knew it was  _ possible, _ of course, but I never thought that  _ I _ would-” She stopped, biting her lip and shaking her head. “Let me give you one, as well?”

“Why don’t I unwrap you like the gorgeous present you are, and we can  _ both _ have one this time?” Crowley gathered the silk up, lifting it and easing it over Azira’s head. She draped the gown over the footboard, then turned back and slid the delicate knickers down her legs.

Sitting back on her heels, Crowley studied Azira’s body. “You are so, so beautiful,” she whispered. Azira practically  _ glowed _ under the praise. Crowley lifted one shapely leg and skimmed her cheek along the silken skin. She realized that there were almost invisible, tiny white-blonde hairs along her legs. As she went higher up Azira’s thigh, she saw that her sex was covered in the same baby-fine hair. She pressed a kiss to the top of Azira’s pubis.

“You don’t even have to shave, do you?”

Azira shook her head. “There’s so little there anyway - but I could, if you prefer that. I know you keep yours shaved-”

“No, I like it. You’re perfect just the way you are, angel.” She kissed Azira’s belly, then moved further up the bed, so they were face to face. “Besides, I  _ don’t _ shave mine.”

“Oh, but you’re-”

“I had it lasered off when I was younger. Almost wish I hadn’t, now, though.”

“Why?”

Crowley blew out a breath, shrugging. “So I could grow it all out wild as my own little way of saying  _ fuck off _ to everyone who holds women up to impossible beauty standards. I did everything I could to basically erase my gender, because it was the only way I could get any respect in the business world. A woman in a position of power is barely tolerated, but god forbid if she also defies their definition of what’s acceptably feminine. I played that game, I did all the right things, and now that I’m where I am today, I’m furious with myself for pandering to their ridiculous expectations.” She glanced down at Azira, who was staring up at her wide eyed, and realized she’d been ranting.  _ Can’t get much less sexy than that, _ she chided herself. She cleared her throat. “But anyway. Enough about that. I thought we could try something, if you’re up for it.”

Azira smiled. “With how good everything we’ve done so far has felt, I’m happy to try anything.”

“That’s the spirit!” Crowley planted her left knee between Azira’s parted thighs, and urged Azira’s left knee up to her chest. Bracing one hand on the back Azira’s raised thigh, and the other on the bed beside her head, Crowley leaned forward until they were pressed together, lips kissing, though not in the way Azira objected to.

Azira was still slick from her earlier orgasm, and when Crowley angled her hips, there was a delicious combination of slide and friction between them.

The angle was all wrong for Crowley to get leverage, and in moments her thighs were on fire, but the sensation of their skin rubbing together was so good that she ignored it. She rocked her hips forward again.

Azira moaned, and it ended on a wheeze.

“You okay, angel?”

“Fine,” Azira choked out.

Crowley froze. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t like it.”

“No, no, it feels lovely - down there. It’s just, my leg being up like this - makes it a bit difficult - to -  _ breathe.” _

Crowley immediately leaned up, and Azira sucked in a huge breath. “Okay, so no pushing your leg up like that. We’ll find another way to-” Crowley cut off with a screech, stiffened, and tipped over sideways, clutching her thigh.

“Crowley! What’s the matter?”

_ “Leg cramp-” _ Crowley managed to bite out.

Azira found the knotted muscle and started massaging it loose again. A few minutes later, it finally unchenched, leaving a throbbing ache behind.

“Okay, so… that was a massive failure.” Crowley threw her arm over her eyes, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry.

“Well, it  _ did _ feel good, before the-”

“The smothering and the leg cramp?”

“Yes. That.” Azira giggled. In a moment, Crowley found herself caught up in the infectious sound. She giggled, too.

“I promise, I  _ have _ done that before. Successfully, I might add.”

“Was the person you did that with, significantly  _ smaller _ than I am, by any chance?”

“Yes, but-  _ oh!” _ Crowley felt like an idiot. She was taller than Azira by a few inches, yes, but Azira was so much curvier. Of course Crowley couldn’t get enough height for the proper leverage.

“But maybe-” Azira paused, and Crowley turned to her, all ears. “Maybe, if I was on top?”

A wicked smile tugged at Crowley’s mouth. “Oh yes,” she purred, “that might work.”

Blushing, Azira switched their positions. Crowley had the flexibility of a snake, and her knee bent up to her chest easily. Azira knelt over her, thick thighs holding her steady as she leaned down and brought their bodies together.

“L-Like this?” She rolled her hips almost hesitantly.

Crowley moaned and nodded encouragingly. “Just like that, angel.” She couldn't raise her hips and meet the pressure, but she clutched at Azira’s hips greedily. “More.”

Azira complied, rocking their bodies together, at first only forward and back, but soon picking up a rhythm of circling, of thrusting, of lazy figure eights. Her lips parted as she let her head fall back, actively seeking out the pleasure to be found between them.

Even though Crowley knew she would need more friction to come, she didn’t press. Azira above her, lost in the throes of her building climax, was the most erotic thing Crowley had ever seen. She was already so close to the edge, with Azira’s rocking teasing her, keeping her suspended there.

And then Azira let out a soft moan and pressed them tightly together for half a dozen heartbeats before slumping forward. She dragged her eyes up to Crowley, questioning. “Are you-”

“I’m so close,” Crowley whimpered shamelessly.

Azira immediately slipped down and buried her face between Crowley’s legs. She was wild, relentless, and drove Crowley into a screaming orgasm.

_ “Holy shit,” _ Crowley breathed once Azira was back in her arms, smiling and satisfied. “Holy buggering shit.”

“Quite.”

“We are  _ definitely _ doing that again.”

Azira laughed. “Right now?”

“Maybe not  _ right _ now,” Crowley conceded. “We’ll give it ten minutes and see.”

Azira pulled the blanket up over them and cuddled close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cameo: Simon Morrells is the name of the actor who plays the delivery man in GO!


	4. Chapter 4

The polo match… confused Azira, to say the least. The sport itself seemed simple enough, though she couldn’t really see the appeal. It was what was happening on the sidelines that she didn’t understand. It was unlike any sporting event she’d ever been too. The people seemed more interested in talking than watching the players.

_ Networking, _ Crowley had called it. And she was there to do it too. She mingled in with other people who spent more on their socks than Azira earned in a month. Despite the pretty dress she was wearing, Azira felt wildly out of place.

Eventually, they moved toward a smaller group of people. A sour faced looking man stood beside a woman who was so perfectly beautiful that none of it could be real.

“Hester, this is my friend, Azira Fell. Azira, this Hester Gehenna and his-” she stopped, looking to the two of them for a title. The man just grunted, but the woman rolled her eyes.

“Girlfriend,” she said, her face not moving even a fraction as she spoke.

“Makin' rounds?” Hester asked Crowley.

Crowley nodded. “I’ve already talked to three of the five members of the Young’s board of directors.”

“Think they’ll fold?”

“Like a cheap deck of cards,” Crowley assured. Hester grinned - a sight that Azira found deeply unsettling. Beside him, his girlfriend spotted someone and waved.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, voice slightly slurred by her unmoving mouth. She moved off toward her waiting friend, ignoring the way Hester smacked her on the ass as she went.

“She’s… lovely,” Azira said, attempting politeness.

Hester laughed. “If she didn’t have a cunt like a bloody fist she’d be more trouble than she’s worth. But yeah,  _ lovely.” _

Azira blanched, and Crowley glared at the man. “Why don’t you stop assaulting our ears and go find drinks?”

Hester looked at an obviously shocked Azira, laughed again, and went off to get champagne.

“How  _ charming,” _ Azira deadpanned.

“He’s crass, crude, and barely tolerable, but he’s a damn good lawyer.”

Azira nodded, suddenly feeling chilled. These were the people Crowley was surrounded by. Cutthroat, unfeeling people who either hid their viciousness behind polite words, or felt so confident in their status that they got away with being as crude as they wanted.

She had wondered, when Crowley had first picked her up, why someone so beautiful and rich could possibly want to spend time with someone like her.

Now, she understood.

“Could you point me in the direction of the ladies room?” she asked quietly. Despite them being outside, Azira found that she needed a little air.

***

When Hester returned with the champagne, Crowley fought the urge to kick him.

He’d obviously gone out of his way to make Azira uncomfortable. He was a prick, yes, but usually he reserved his vitriol for people on the other side of legal proceedings. Crowley had no idea why he’d decided to do his best to make Azira uncomfortable.

“What the fuck was that?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “What?”

“Cut the shit, Hester, you know exactly what.”

He shrugged again. “Jus’ tryin to give the little lady a proper welcome into the fold, since you seem to have fallen arse over teakettle for ‘er.”

“Some fucking welcome. Next time watch your mouth, or better yet, just keep it shut. And what do you mean  _ fallen _ for her?”

“Don’t pretend you’re not slobbering all over her. Cancelling meetings, wearing your hair like some sort of girly-girl-” he gestured to Crowley’s hair, which she’d left down again, “and what the bloody hell are you wearin’ round your neck?” He dismissively flicked the end of the silver scarf.

“How I wear my hair and clothes is none of your business, and certainly has nothing to do with  _ Azira.” _ Which was a flat out lie, but Crowley said it straight faced. She’d worn her hair down again because Azira had complimented it, and obviously the scarf had been a gift. But Hester didn’t have to know that.

“Whatever you say, boss,” Hester grunted. “Where’d you pick ‘er up at, anyway?”

Crowley thought at first there was an innuendo in his choice of words, but there was no way he knew where she’d ‘picked up’ Azira. “Asking for directions. In  _ your _ car, I might add. She likes it.”

“So you were in need and she was conveniently there?” There was obvious distrust in Hester’s tone.

“Buggering hell, she’s not a  _ spy, _ Hester.”

“Oh really? ‘Ow can you be so sure? Especially,” he gestured with his champagne glass to the barn across the clearing, “when she’s cozying up to Adam Young?”

Crowley looked, and saw Azira was indeed talking to Adam, who had played in the match. They were standing by his horse. Azira seemed enthralled with the animal more than whatever Adam was saying, but she smiled and laughed.

So, alright, she could see why Hester was suspicious.

“I introduced them at dinner the other night. He liked her. Him  _ and _ his father. That could be an asset to us.”

“Or it could be a set up, and you’re bein’ strung along like a lovesick puppy.”

“That’s  _ not _ the case.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Crowley-”

Crowley sighed, seeing that he wasn’t going to drop this. She tugged him close by the elbow and whispered into his ear. “She’s a  _ hooker,  _ Hester.”

Hester drew back, shocked. “A what?”

“You heard me. I picked her up on Hollywood Boulevard. She’s not a corporate spy.”

“A…” Hester seemed to finally wrap his head around that, and started cackling. “Oh, that’s rich.”

Crowley glared at him, but it did nothing to stop Hester’s laughter.

_ “You,” _ he cackled, “you, the ice queen, picked up a bloody  _ prostitute.” _

“Shut up,” Crowley hissed.

“Hey, who’m I to judge? Can’t say’s I haven’t gotten more than a few in my time, but fuck me, I never thought I’d see the day when  _ you _ went for it. She must eat pussy like a fuckin’-”

Crowley didn’t wait around to hear whatever comparison Hester was going to make. She turned away, spotting the last two members of the Young’s board of directors.

“Fuck off, Hes.”

The sound of his cackling followed her.

***

Azira wandered a little, still smiling from her exchange with Adam. He seemed like a pleasant enough boy, maybe a little too sure of himself, maybe a little too impulsive, but once she’d gotten him talking about his horse, he was all innocent excitement.

He’d told her about getting the horse for his birthday when it was only a colt, and the mischief they’d gotten up to together. He talked about the horse the way one might talk about a beloved dog. It had been extremely endearing, and Azira was entranced with the animal almost as much as Adam had been.

She wondered if Crowley had horses growing up. Or if she had them now.

When she decided to ask, she realized she had no idea where Crowley was. Her long mane of red hair wasn’t visible in the crowd. She did, however, spot Hester. As loathe as she was to approach the vile man, he would probably know where Crowley was. She steeled herself and walked over.

“Have you seen Crowley?”

Hester turned and blatantly eyed her up and down. “Can’t say as I have.” He stepped closer, and Azira fought the urge to back away. “Having a nice time there, luv?”

“Y-yes,” Azira stuttered. “Lovely.”

“Must be quite th’change from Hollywood Boulevard.”

Azira felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head. “What?”

“Don’t act so coy, precious. Crowley told me all about your little arrangement.” He leered at her. “Y’know, I’ll be in town for months after Crowley’s gone back to London. How’s about you an’ I make ourselves a little arrangement as well?”

“I- I-”

“C’mon now, duckie, I’m sure I can show you a better time than the Ice Queen.” He ran his hand down her back, settling it just barely above her ass. Azira cringed. It slipped lower.

“There you are!” The slurred voice of Hester’s girlfriend floated across to them, and they turned to see her walking toward them. Hester removed his hand.

“Think about it,” he murmured as he stepped away. “I’ll be in touch.”

Azira stared after him, stunned to immobility, trying not to cry.

***

Crowley looked askance at Azira as they walked into the hotel room. She’d been silent the entire drive back from the polo match. Whenever Crowley asked how she was, she gave a curt  _ fine _ and then went silent again.

Crowley wasn’t an idiot. She knew that  _ something _ was wrong, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what. From a business perspective, the match couldn’t have gone better. She was now certain that she had all five members of the board on her side, and with Adam warming up to Azira, it felt like the buyout was in the bag.

Azira tossed down her handbag and stalked into the bathroom. Crowley heard the shower come on full blast. There was a scuffle, then a tearing sound, then a muffled curse. Crowley went into the bathroom to see what the hell was going on.

Azira stood barefoot, eyes wet, with the zipper of her dress partly undone. She cursed again as she struggled to reach it.

“Alright, what is going on?” Crowley demanded.

Azira looked up at her, face caught halfway between tears and outrage. “Nothing. Just leave it, Crowley. You’ve already helped quite enough,” she grated.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Azira made another attempt at the zipper, and let out a muted scream of frustration when she still couldn’t reach it. “Just tell me  _ why,” _ she demanded. Before Crowley could ask what the hell she meant, Azira went on. “Why make me dress up in these fancy clothes if you’re just going to tell everyone I’m a… a hooker? Why not just let me wear my own dress?”

Crowley started to speak, to deny that, but Azira went on, clearly worked into a strop.

“At least in my dress, I know what to  _ expect! _ That way when someone like  _ Hester _ comes up to me, I can handle it. I’m prepared for it!”

Crowley gaped. “Hester? What the fuck did he say to you?”

“Don’t you dare pretend not to know,” Azira said with a blistering glare. “At the very least, be honest with me. What did you expect someone like him to say to me, after you told him all about our ‘little arrangement’?”

Crowley had never seen Azira so angry, and if she was guessing correctly what had happened, she could understand why.

“I’m sorry, he should  _ never _ have talked to you. I’m going to make sure this doesn’t happen again, angel-”

“Don’t call me that!” She stormed past Crowley. “I’m not some plaything that you can pass around to your friends!”

“I know that! I’ve never thought that!”

“That’s not the way it looked from where I was standing! How  _ could you?” _

“Enough!”

Crowley knew that she wasn’t angry with Azira. Azira had every right to be upset, even if she had misunderstood the situation and was taking her anger out on the wrong person. Crowley needed to be calm, to explain the situation to her patiently, to empathize with her - but the tears in Azira’s eyes were making her own temper flare and the object of her rage wasn’t around. Only Azira was.

“I wasn’t shouting it to all and sundry,” Crowley snapped. “Hester is my  _ lawyer. _ He thought you were some sort of bloody spy! So I told him that I hired you, which is the  _ truth.” _

Crowley knew, as soon as the harshly spoken words left her mouth, that she’d made a mistake. Azira’s face crumpled. Crowley wasn’t even sure the words themselves had registered. Only the way Crowley had spoken to her. The tears spilled over, and Azira silently started gathering her things.

“What are you doing?”

The ratty purse looked ridiculous up against the pretty dress she was wearing. She tucked the dress she’d worn that first day over her arm.

“I want to leave.” Her voice wavered. “Please pay me for the days I’ve been here.” She kept her face turned away, clearly not wanting Crowley to see her tears.

“Azira-”

“Don’t. Please.”

Crowley wanted to push. She wanted to demand that Azira listen to her explanation. She wanted to force her to accept an apology. But Azira  _ wasn’t _ Crowley’s. And Crowley couldn’t force her to listen any more than she could force her to stay.

Making herself numb, Crowley opened her wallet, took out a stack of bills that was clearly more than the entire amount they’d agreed on, and dropped it on the bed. Then she walked away. She didn’t want to watch Azira leave.

***

The door to the hotel room closed.

Cursing Hester, her own stupidity, and the whole situation, Crowley looked back at the bed.

The neat stack of hundreds was still there.

Why would she leave it? She clearly had people to answer to, people who would expect her to return with money. But she hadn’t taken Crowley’s. Crowley wouldn’t let herself imagine what that might mean. Instead, she took a deep, calming breath, and followed Azira.

She was still standing just outside the door, pushing the elevator button repeatedly, as if that would make it come faster. She tensed when Crowley walked up, but didn’t look at her.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley said softly. “I… I hadn’t expected anyone to question our relationship like that, and I made a mistake, admitting it to him. It was stupid, and cruel, and I’m sorry for whatever he said to you because of it. I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you. You deserve better than that.” Azira still wasn’t looking at her. “I don’t want you to go,” Crowley admitted.

“Why?” The single word sounded so lost, so uncertain, that it broke Crowley’s heart.

“I… I like you.” It seemed like such a small way to describe how Crowley felt, but it was a start. And it was true.

The elevator doors opened, and Newt stepped out, smiling obliviously at them. “Going down?”

There was a long silence, and then Azira shook her head.

Newt looked between them, then stepped back in the elevator and went back down alone.

“You- you hurt me, Crowley.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, angel. I promise.”

Azira studied her, as if she was looking for any doubt about Crowley’s word, then slowly nodded. Crowley reached out and carefully took Azira’s hand. Together they turned, and went back into the hotel room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was only recently brought to my attention that the version of Pretty Woman that I've always known and loved is, in fact, a director's cut that includes deleted scenes. The horseback riding and other events of the date day are among them, as well as an iconic scene where they stop in at the Blue Banana and have in with the drug dealer who has been harassing Viv. I've obviously taken liberties with the scenes, but if you've never watched them I highly recommend youtubing them!

Crowley walked into the temporary Abaddon offices the next morning with a smile on her face. Memories of the night before, of the slow, sweet lovemaking she’d shared with Azira, and then the quick playful romp in the early dawn light, were putting her in one of the best moods she’d been in for a long time.

Even Bea, who while an extremely competent assistant was usually completely oblivious to anything not to do with work, had noticed Crowley’s good mood. Crowley paused at the front desk, dropping off a stack of papers to be faxed.

“Someone’s certainly in a good mood.”

Crowley smiled. “What can I say, it’s a good day. And speaking of that, I need you to get me two tickets to tonight’s opera.”

“Of course,” Bea said with a knowing smile.

“A  _ date _ tonight, eh? With the  _ hooker?” _

Crowley turned, already glaring, to see Hester leaning in the doorway. Crowley bared her teeth at him and stalked closer.

_ “You,” _ she hissed. Hester’s eyes widened. Crowley yanked him forward by the lapels of his jacket and then shoved him back against the wall. “I tolerate your sorry hide because you’re a demon in the courtroom. But if you  _ ever _ go near Azira again, if you speak to her, if you look at her, if you so much as  _ breathe _ in her general direction, I will make it my personal mission to ensure that your life becomes a living hell. Do I make myself clear?”

Hester nodded, eyes still wide and a little wild. “Good,” Crowley said, and dropped him. He slumped back against the wall. Crowley didn’t bother to look back at him as she walked out of the office. 

She sent a text to Azira to be ready by six, telling her the dress code but not where they were going, and went back to work.

***

When Crowley walked into the hotel room, she was met with silence. The living room was empty, as were the entry and bedroom.

“Angel?”

“Just a minute,” Azira called from behind the closed bathroom door.

“We’ve still got fifteen minutes before we need to be in the car; take your time,” Crowley called back. She stripped off her suit and pulled her dress out of the closet. Just as she finished zipping herself into the skin-tight black satin, the bathroom door opened.

Crowley quickly slipped into her heels, grabbed the jeweler’s box she’d picked up on her way back, and then went over to the doorway, where Azira was standing nervously.

Crowley worked very, very hard to keep her jaw from dropping.

Azira was swathed from shoulder to toes in shimmering blue. She looked like she’d been plucked from the sky. The bodice of the dress draped across her shoulders, revealing the pale swell of her breasts. Crowley was all at once exceptionally pleased with the purchase she’d made at the jewellers.

“H-how do I look?” Azira asked.

Crowley circled her, taking her time to drink in the sight of her. “Something’s missing.”

“I don’t believe anything more could possibly fit into this dress,” Azira said, patting her curves.

“Maybe something in this box,” Crowley said, showing it to Azira.

Azira gasped. Crowley flicked the lid of the box open with her thumb to reveal the necklace inside. It was a diamond shaped like a star, suspended between two white gold angel wings. It sat on a delicate chain. At first, Crowley had thought it was too small, too minimalistic, but now she realized just how perfect it was. Azira would have looked wrong in large gaudey jewels. She needed something that complimented her gentle, natural beauty.

With a trembling hand, Azira reached out and touched the tiny wing.

Feeling particularly playful, Crowley snapped the lid shut. Azira let out a squeal and yanked her hand back, then laughed when Crowley started giggling.

“You rogue,” she chided.

Crowley snickered again and pulled it out of the box, then ushered Azira toward a mirror so she could watch as Crowley put it on her. She stood behind Azira and draped it around her throat, carefully attaching the clasp. Azira touched the pendant reverently.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“Beautiful,” Crowley agreed, looking not at the necklace, but at Azira.

Azira saw her and blushed.

Crowley cleared her throat and turned, offering Azira her elbow. Azira slipped her arm through it, and they headed down to the lobby.

***

Madam Tracey elbowed her husband to get his attention.

“Damnation, woman,” he growled under his breath as he turned. Tracey ignored his ire and gestured across the lobby. People were stopping to stare at the couple walking through. Crowley and Azira were arm in arm, both looking ethereally lovely.

Shadwell’s usually stern expression softened, and he may have even smiled.

***

Newt took his place at the door for the start of his shift, fairly certain that he’d blown his only chance with the incredibly sexy driver that had been around the hotel for the past week.

He was fighting the urge to sigh dramatically and rest his forehead against the glass - which Shadwell would’ve given him hell for - when Ms Crowley and her companion walked out the door. 

Newt stared after them, mouth agape.

His heart might’ve been lost to a raven haired temptress in a limo, but he could still appreciate other-worldly beauty when he saw it, and he was certainly seeing it.

***

Anathema managed to keep her face impassive while she opened the limo door for her boss and her boss’s companion, but as soon as she closed it behind them, she allowed herself to grin.

She’d been working for Crowley for years. When they’d met, she’d been a lowly bike messenger. Crowley had taken her under her wing. It had been an incredible opportunity, not to mention that with her significantly improved salary, she’d been able to finish school. She owed everything to Crowley, and wanted to see her happy.

Azira had certainly done that. Anathema could only hope that whatever was between them lasted.

She walked around to the driver’s door, winked at the cute doorman who always seemed to trip or stutter when he talked to her, and got inside.

***

They barely settled into their box when the curtain opened.

Azira was immediately entranced. Her breath caught at every swell of the music, her eyes shining as the story unfolded before her.

Crowley loved the opera - she loved all performing arts, and had since she’d seen Hamlet as a little girl. But she wasn’t paying any attention to the rather beautiful rendition of  _ Madam Butterfly. _ She was watching Azira, and thinking.

For years, Crowley had lived her life a certain way. She’d been ruthless in her drive to succeed, letting nothing stand in her way. She’d pushed aside any inkling of sentiment, made herself cold, unfeeling. The world saw her as vicious and frigid, and Crowley had done nothing to dissuade them of the notion. The fact that she’d always kept to her own, private moral code, that she’d tried to never do more harm than good, was one that she kept close to the vest.

Personal relationships had been much the same. The women that she took to bed knew that she wasn’t interested in romance. They shared a physical affair that ended as soon as it became inconvenient to Crowley, or sooner, if she realized they were trying to use sex to curry favor.

She’d never been interested in  _ more. _

But now, with Azira, Crowley wondered if maybe she was ready. Not for marriage and the white picket fence, no, but a commitment - even just a small one. It wouldn’t be so very difficult to set Azira up with a place of her own here in LA. With the acquisition of Young Industries, Crowley could find reason to come back to the States every few months. They could share something that benefited them both.

All Azira had to do was say yes.

But somehow, Crowley didn’t think it would be that easy.

When the final curtain fell, Azira turned to Crowley with tears in her eyes and awe on her face, and Crowley could see them coming back to the opera, sharing each new show with her, for years to come. She wiped Azira’s tears away, kissed her forehead, and escorted her out of the opera hall.

***

An hour later they were back at the hotel, heels and purses forgotten at the door, playing chess. Or rather,  _ Crowley _ was playing chess. Azira was… playing.

“Whyever can’t I move this one? It’s the prettiest piece.”

Crowley laughed. “Because the queen doesn’t move that way.”

“She should be allowed to, don’t you think? She  _ is _ the queen, after all.”

Crowley gave up with the rules and they spent the next ten minutes moving the pieces any which way they wanted, scrambling the board entirely. When Azira started to yawn, Crowley stood up.

“Come on, angel, let’s get you to bed. It’s late, and I’ve got more work to get done before morning.”

“Why don’t we  _ both _ go to bed, and you not go to work tomorrow?”

“Take the day off?” Crowley hadn’t taken a whole day off in… well, she couldn’t remember when. There was always something more that needed done, some task that couldn’t wait. But what was the point of all her success if she couldn’t enjoy a simple day off? “I  _ do _ own the company,” she mused.

Azira grinned.

***

Though she’d clearly been tired before, once they got into bed, Azira seemed wide awake. Even after they’d both had intense orgasms, with Crowley riding Azira’s thigh again and Azira coming undone under Crowley’s fingers, she still didn’t seem ready to drop off.

With them naked, sated, and warm in the bed, Crowley decided to ask something she’d been wondering about for a long while.

“How did you end up here?” she asked softly.

Azira blinked, half a smile on her face. “Right here, in this bed with you?”

When Crowley shook her head, Azira’s expression became more serious. She snuggled closer to her pillow and let out a slow breath. “I’d been so excited to come to LA, at first. It seemed like such a big adventure. Michael and Gabe, they didn’t think I was ready, but I begged Father, and he let me go. And when we got here, everything was so huge, and new, and I loved everything about it… but after a while…” She shrugged. “The shine wore off. I couldn’t ever seem to make my brothers and sisters happy. I wasn’t brave enough, or strong enough, or smart enough. I wasn’t contributing like the rest of them. I tried to get a few odd jobs, but they interfered with times when someone wanted me at home to do something, keeping the place clean, or cooking, and after the last time I got fired…

“And one night, Michael had some business associate of his over at the house, and he seemed… taken, with me. So he and Michael - made an arrangement.”

Crowley laid a gentle hand on Azira’s back. Azira’s eyes were wet, but she didn’t let any tears fall. She sniffed, shaking her head as though she could shake away the emotion with it.

“It was fine, you know? I was happy to be contributing, happy to finally have something I could do that showed I wasn’t completely worthless. And when the steady stream of their business clients finally ran out, Sandy came up with the idea of me going out on the street. Not alone, of course. One of them is always there with me, to keep me safe.”

“Azira…”

“It’s okay” Azira laughed, snuffling a little again. “No little girl dreams of growing up to become a hooker, but when you’re like me, not smart, or brave, or strong…”

Crowley scooted closer, bringing her hand up to cup Azira’s face. “Listen to me. You  _ are _ all those things, angel. You’re smart, and courageous, and so, so strong. You could be so much more than this.”

“Compliments are much harder to believe,” Azira whispered.

“What reason could I possibly have to say those things to you if they weren’t true? I’ll be gone in a few days. I have no reason to lie. If your family told you that this was all you could do, all you were good for, then they’re dead wrong - and they should be ashamed to call themselves your family after putting such cruel thoughts in your head. You deserve better than that, Azira. You deserve better than scraping by, trading yourself for money, just to appease people who don’t even care about you!”

“Th-they do care about me,” Azira insisted.

“When was the last time they told you how precious you are? How special? When was the last time they did anything but  _ use _ you?”

“I don’t- they  _ do _ care…” She said it as though she was trying to convince herself it was true.

“If that’s the kind of care they give, do you really  _ want _ it?”

Azira didn’t answer.

***

In the morning, they shared breakfast, and then went to a park.

Azira had Crowley doing simple things like walking barefoot in the grass, smelling flowers, watching birds. Simple pleasures that Crowley had neglected for far too long.

When a business call came through and Crowley looked longingly at her phone, Azira very firmly put it back in her purse and drew out a book by Oscar Wilde instead. They reclined on a blanket in the cool shade of an enormous tree, Crowley reading the book aloud with Azira’s head resting on her shoulder.

Crowley surprised Azira with a visit to the stable where the polo match had been held. They had the paddock to themselves, and with Crowley’s guidance, Azira managed to mount a horse and trot it around proudly. She was breathless with delight, and with the sun shining behind her, it looked like she really did have that halo Crowley always thought befitted her.

They took a driving tour around LA, with Azira pointing out to Anathema where to go, showing Crowley her favorite places. They stopped for lunch, and pizza, and then gyroes, and then ice cream. It was indulgent, frivolous, everything that Crowley was not. Or rather, the things she’d forced herself not to be. But with Azira, she found herself loving every stolen moment.

It was dark, and they were driving back to the hotel when Azira started to fidget.

“What’s up, angel?”

Azira looked out the window, then back up at Crowley. “There’s a club, just ahead, that one of my sisters works in. My other siblings go there on weekends, in the evenings, sometimes. It’s been a while since I checked in, and I thought maybe…”

“You want to stop in and see them,” Crowley surmised .

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Azira said quietly.

The last thing Crowley wanted was for Azira to be near her ‘family’ again. Crowley didn’t want to meet them, to see them, for them to ever even lay eyes on Azira again. But realistically, Crowley would be leaving in a few days. Unless she and Azira did work out some full time arrangement, Azira would be back living with them by the end of the week.

And more than that, it would make Azira happy. That was enough to make Crowley set aside her better judgement.

“Anathema?”

When Anathema looked back, Crowley nodded to Azira, who leaned forward to give her the name of the club. “Chattering Order - it’s just up here on St Beryl.”

Anathema nodded and pulled up around the back of the club, parking there while Azira and Crowley got out.

“It’ll just be a moment, I promise.”

Crowley wanted to say  _ take your time, no rush, _ but she really didn’t want to be around these people any more than she absolutely had to. 

They walked through the back door, and were immediately assaulted by the sounds of Freddy Mercury screaming  _ she’s a killer queen, gunpowder and gelatine. _ Usually, Crowley was a fan of Queen, but she was one hundred percent certain it was never meant to be heard at these ear-splitting levels.

The smell of the place hit almost as hard as the sound, stale beer and piss and sweat. People were packed together like sardines, writhing on the dance floor. Why anyone would willingly subject themselves to this, Crowley had no idea.

Azira skirted the crowd, going up toward the bar and leaning across it to be heard by the friendly looking old man pouring drinks. He smiled at her, and pointed to a table in the corner, where a group of men and women were already standing up. Crowley hung back, giving her space, as she went over to them.

Though she couldn’t hear what they were saying, it was clear things weren’t going well. One smug looking bastard seemed to be doing most of the talking, and he was pointing at Azira angrily. She’d started out standing tall, but with every passing moment, she seemed to be sinking in on herself. Finally, she nodded and turned. The entire group of them, with a shame-faced Azira in front, headed Crowley’s direction.

“Why don’t we go outside and have a little chat,” the smug one said over the sound of the music as the group got close.

Crowley glared at where his hand was gripped tightly on Azira’s neck. “Fine by me,” she grated out.

They filed out of the club, to where Anathema was waiting, leaned against the limo. One of the cultists - and Crowley was convinced that’s exactly what they were, no matter what Azira said - whistled low.

“Well now, it looks like our little Azzy found herself a rich one.” 

“That’s rude, Michael,” Azira whispered loudly.

Crowley saw Michael’s fingers tighten on the back of Azira’s neck, and she fell silent. Crowley grit her teeth against the urge to rip his fucking arm off.

“We do hope you’ve been treating our baby sister well,” Michael drawled.  _ “Clearly _ you’ve been feeding her plenty.” Several other members of the little group snickered, and Azira went scarlet.

“I’d say I’ve been taking care of her better than you have,” Crowley bit out.

Michael’s veneer of pleasantness fell away, and he glowered openly. “Oh, is that so? Well since you have been doing  _ so _ much for her, I think it’s time we renegotiated the terms of our little deal.”

“I don’t have any deal with you.”

“You have a deal with Azzy, which means you have a deal with me,” Michael sneered. “She’s quite the hot little commodity, it seems. You’re the buyer, I’m the seller. So, if you want to  _ keep _ buying, you’ll negotiate with me. And unfortunately for you, the price of your little sex toy just went up. Double. Half now, and half when your arrangement is finished.”

Azira was shaking in Michael’s grip, tears falling silently down her face.

“You don’t have to put up with this, angel,” Crowley said softly to her, ignoring the glare from Michael. “You’re your own person, no matter what this arsehole says. You can just walk away, with me.”

“Shut up,” Michael snapped. “What, have you decided she’s not worth the extra money, so you’re trying to score a freebie? According to her, the two of you have been having a grand old time. So just hand over the money, I’ll pass along the merchandise, and you can be on your merry way.”

“Don’t let him treat you like this. You’re  _ better _ than this. You deserve better than this. Just come away with me.” Crowley held out her hand.

Azira looked at it longingly. She struggled with herself, fighting some internal battle that Crowley couldn’t fathom, and then turned her face up to Michael, twisting against his hold on her.

“Stop it, Michael.”

Michael looked down at her in outrage. “Excuse me?”

“I said,  _ stop it. _ You agreed to this arrangement. Going back on it… is dishonest. I’m going with her tonight, no extra money. I’ll be back at the end of the week.” She tried to move away from the painful grasp, but Michael yanked her back.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Crowley hissed, taking a step forward.

Michael laughed at her. “What’re you going to do about it,  _ twiggy? _ Fight me? Fight  _ all _ of us?”

“As much as I’d love to rip your goddamn arm off and shove it down your throat, and  _ oh, _ you have no idea how much I want to, that won’t be necessary.” Crowley smiled coldly. “Anathema, why don’t you show these folks your left pocket?”

Anathema unbuttoned her jacket and pulled it back to expose a holstered handgun. She rested her hand on the butt of it with barley restrained glee.

“It’s incredible how lax your gun laws are here,” Crowley said conversationally, taking Azira’s hand and pulling her from Michael’s now slack grip. “She even has all the proper paperwork and everything. You should see how excited she gets on the gun range, too. Somehow I don’t think she’d mind making an improvised one right here in this back alley. Would you, Anathema?”

“Not one bit, Ms Crowley.”

Crowley smiled at her, planning to double her Christmas bonus, and opened the limo door for Azira.

“This isn’t over,” Michael snapped.

“Oh, I think you’ll find that it is.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, twiggy. I was talking to  _ Azzy. _ You’ve gotta come home sometime. And apparently you’ll need a reminding of the rules.”

Crowley wanted to tell them to never go near Azira again. She wanted to threaten them with their lives if they hurt a single hair on her head, if they spoke a bad word to her. She wanted to let Anathema light up the ally like a cheap carnival game - ten points for a shoulder, fifty for a kneecap!

But as far as Crowley knew, Azira still planned to return to these people at the end of the week. And there was nothing Crowley could do to stop it, if that was what Azira chose.

She ushered Azira into the limo and slid in beside her, closing the door firmly between them and the obscenities Michael was shouting.

***

That night, when they were safely tucked into what Crowley had begun to think of as  _ their bed, _ Azira touched Crowley’s face softly. She traced the line of Crowley’s eyebrows, the ridge of her cheekbone, the curve of her lips.

There were a wealth of words unsaid between them, but neither seemed to be able to get them out. They hadn’t spoken on the ride home, except for Azira to thank Anathema. They’d just held each other, clinging like they never wanted to let go.

Crowley was convinced that was exactly the case.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would ask to extend their arrangement. She’d convince Azira that those people weren’t her  _ family, _ that they weren’t what was best for her. They’d come up with a plan, together, to make this work.

But tonight, with Michael’s vicious words echoing through Crowley’s head, the memory of Azira’s face when he’d called her  _ merchandise, commodity, sex toy _ burned into her mind, Crowley just wanted to wipe it all away. She wanted to create a new memory, something so beautiful that it eclipsed the ugliness of the night.

She started to touch Azira back, nothing even inherently sexual about the contact. She touched Azira reverently. She touched her like she was unspeakably precious - because to Crowley, she  _ was. _

It seemed like they spent hours, stroking, exploring, whispering sweet words in each other’s ears. When they climaxed, it was almost like an afterthought, like what they were sharing transcended simple physical pleasure into something much more profound. It felt like eschewing any other higher power and worshipping each other.

Just as Crowley was dropping off to sleep, she thought she heard Azira murmur something, but it was too quiet for her to catch. Before she could ask, her eyes closed, and she slept.


	6. Chapter 6

Azira had just sat down to a plate of the hotel’s excellent crepes when Crowley folded the newspaper and set it aside.

  
“My business in LA is almost finished. I’ll be returning in London tomorrow.” She watched as Azira’s face fell. “I’d like to see you again,” she added.

A slow smile spread across Azira’s lips. “You would?”

Crowley nodded. “I’ll set you up with an apartment in the city, a car, a long list of stores guaranteed to treat you like a queen any time you feel like shopping-”

  
  


Azira put down her fork and laid her hands in her lap. She let out a long sigh. “And what else?”

“Anything else you want-” Crowley stopped, confused by the  _ hurt _ on Azira’s face. “Angel, I don’t understand. You… you’d be off the street. And I-”

“You’d  _ what, _ Crowley? Leave some money on the bedside when you pass through town?”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” Crowley protested.

“Then how  _ would _ it be?”

“It would be- Azira, I  _ care _ about you. You have to know that.”

Azira nodded, eyes misting. “I do, my dear. Of course I do. Which is all the more reason I can’t enter into another  _ arrangement _ with you.” She stood up and went out to the balcony.

Crowley followed her, ignoring her phone ringing on the table and the lurch in her stomach at being out on the balcony. Azira was standing still, face upturned to the sun. 

“When I was a little girl,” Azira said softly, eyes still closed, “I read stories about princesses locked away in towers guarded by dragons. And a valiant knight would come and slay the dragon, and rescue the princess, and they’d live happily ever after. Never in all those stories did the knight say  _ let’s make an arrangement.” _

“Angel, I’m trying. I really am. I’m not going to tell you pretty lies or give you empty promises. This is all I can offer right now.”

Azira turned, brought Crowley’s head down, and kissed her forehead. “I understand,” she whispered.

Crowley’s phone rang a third time. She  _ couldn’t _ miss her meeting with the Youngs today. There was too much on the line. She forced herself to step away. “I have to go. But just… don’t leave. Not yet.”

Azira hesitated, then nodded. “It’s not the end of the week, yet,” she reasoned.

“Right,” Crowley breathed, relieved. She grabbed her coat and bag, stuffed her cell phone in her pocket, and turned back. “You’ll be here when I get back?”

“I promise,” Azira assured her. Crowley managed a smile, then walked out the door.

***

Mr Young and Adam both watched Crowley across the table like she was a snake that might strike at any moment. To them, she  _ was. _

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked for this meeting,” she began.

“If you’re just here to gloat about the members of the board-”

“No- nothing like that. I wanted us to meet privately to discuss-” The word had suddenly turned sour in Crowley’s mind, but she forced herself to say it. “An arrangement.”

Mr Young eyed her speculatively. “What kind of arrangement?”

“I seem to find myself at… a bit of a cross roads. My company is founded on taking things apart. But for the first time, I want to try  _ building _ something.”

Adam leaned forward in his chair. Mr Young waited for her to go on. Crowley cleared her throat.

“Rather than buy your company and take it over, I’d like to invest in it.” She took out a sheath of papers, outlining the details of her business plan. Adam took them and started looking them over. “Basically, I would provide you the capital to get your business back off the ground. Then, with each year’s profit, you would buy back a certain number of shares from me.”

“At a five percent mark-up,” Adam pointed out, zeroing in on that clause.

Crowley inclined her head. “Yes. Think of it as… interest. You’d only buy back the number of shares that you could afford out of your profit margin. Never more than you can afford. We are both in the business of making money, and this would allow us to  _ both _ profit. And it lets you buy back the entirety of your company in time.”

“And what if-” Adam started, but Mr Young cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. He stood up, and held out his other hand to Crowley across the table.

Crowley stood, and shook it.

“I don’t know what’s caused you to have a change of heart,” Mr Young said, “but I’m thankful for it. I look forward to doing business with you, Ms Crowley.”

Crowley smiled. “Me too, Mr Young.”

***

Azira had finished her breakfast, tidied the room, and was starting to pack her things when the hotel phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hullo Ms Fell, apologies for bothering you, but there is an individual here, who  _ claims _ to know you-” There was a scuffle, and then Shadwell growled, “I don’t care how fancy you look, no one bothers our guests unless they want to be bothered!”

Azira had just enough time to be warmed by Shadwell’s protectiveness of her before there was another scuffle, and exchange of words, and then a different voice came through the phone, one that washed over her like warm honey.

“Azira, darling, you’re a difficult woman to reach these days. Be a dear and come down, won’t you?”

“Rafael!” Azira grinned. “I’ll come down immediately!” As she hung up, she could already imagine the superior, smug look Rafael would be giving Shadwell. She slipped on her shoes and hurried downstairs.

***

After hugs, and greetings, and a kiss on the cheek for Shadwell, Azira and Rafael were settled out on the terrace.

“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, dear, but whyever are you here?” Azira asked. It had been years since she’d seen her favorite sister. As one of the oldest siblings, Rafael had many responsibilities, and was almost always busy. She’d always made time for Azira, when she’d been young, though. It had meant a lot.

“I came because of you, of course,” Rafael answered calmly. Her pale violet eyes looked calmly at Azira, as though she could see all her secrets. Azira wasn’t entirely sure she  _ couldn’t. _

“Michael called?”

Rafael nodded. “He called Micha, who didn’t want to bother Father with it. Micha asked me to… handle the situation.”

“What are you going to do?”

Rafael tipped her head to the side, expression still blank. “What would you like me to do?”

“I… I don’t know.” Tears pricked Azira’s eyes, and she allowed them to fall, feeling safe in Rafael’s presence despite not knowing what she had planned. “I’m not sure I can go back, Rafie.”

“You have been… unhappy, under Michael’s guardianship?”

“Desperately unhappy. I didn’t want to say, because I didn’t want to make trouble, or be a burden, but…”

“And you are happier, as you are now?”

“With Crowley, you mean?”

Rafael inclined her head.

“Of course I’m happy with Crowley, but I can’t- It’s not a situation that can last.”

“Why not?”

Azira sighed, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “She did offer. To take care of me. To set something up. But that’s not what I-” She shook her head. “For so long, I’ve been letting others dictate my life. I’m ready to be  _ free. _ If I decide to spend my life with someone, it has to be as a partner, not as an employee or a charity case. I want more than that.”

“Have you said as much to your Crowley?”

“Not in those exact words, but the gist of it, yes. She isn’t ready for that. She might not ever be.”

“Then it is her loss. But you must follow your heart now, Azira.”

“You… you’re not going to try to make me go back home?”

Rafael raised a brow. “Home? It sounds to me as though  _ home _ for you hasn’t been with Michael in quite some time. You are ready to go out and make one of your own.”

“And the money, from Crowley-”

“Is yours,” Rafael said flatly. “If Michael has a problem with that, he can take the issue up with me. Use it to start over, if you like. Finish your education. Find a job you enjoy. Make something of yourself that  _ you _ are proud of.”

Azira nodded, her throat tight. She stood up, and when Rafael did the same, she hugged her sister tightly. Rafael passed her a large manilla envelope, which Azira would later find contained her birth certificate, social security card, and an old driver's license. It would need renewed, of course, but it was enough for Azira to get started on her own.

Rafael kissed her forehead, and it felt like a blessing.

***

Azira felt at peace when she went back to the hotel room. She was sad that her time with Crowley was coming to a close - and she could admit, in the privacy of her own mind, that she was still hoping that a miracle would give them a happy ending - but she was also content with the way her future looked. She would be starting out on her own, starting  _ over, _ making her own choices and living her own life.

It was a daunting prospect, but one she was excited about.

She had just finished packing all her fancy dresses back in their bags when the doorbell rang. She opened the door with a smile, expecting to see Crowley standing there with flowers, or chocolates, or something equally romantic and frivolous.

Instead, Hester was there.

He brushed past her into the room, and Azira’s nose was assaulted with the sharp tang of liquor. Once he was inside, he turned, eyeing Azira.

“Crowley here?” he demanded.

“N-no,” Azira stuttered, keeping to the edges of the room. “I thought she was with you.”

“With me?” Hester laughed bitterly. “Oh no, duckie, I think we both know that Crowley’s with  _ you. _ It’s all you, innit? A week ago, Crowley woulda bought the company, taken the hefty chunk of money, and we’d all be sittin pretty on the profit by now. But she goes and decides to  _ save _ the little rinky-dink operation. Like she don’t care about the payout no more.” He stalked closer. “But y’see, I  _ do _ care. I very much care. I got obligations. So either I need my chunk of the payout - and it don’t look like that’s happenin - or I need to not  _ care.” _

“I- You’ll have to talk to Crowley about that. I don’t know anything about the business.”

“That’s right,” Hester sneered. “Because you’re just a whore. But you’re a good one, ain’t you? You’ve got a right magic cunt that makes people forget all their good sense. Maybe that’s what I need. Maybe if I fuck you, it’ll wipe away all my cares.”

“S-stay away from me!” Azira was backed into the corner, with Hester drawing closer like a shark on the scent of blood. His hand dropped heavily against the wall just to the right of her head, his body effectively caging her in.

“Now, now, no need to play coy, luv. How much d’you charge? I’ll be sure to leave the bills on my way out.” He yanked at the neckline of Azira’s blouse, scattering buttons and exposing her bra.

Azira gasped, and with a courage she didn’t know she possessed, she backhanded Hester across the face. He actually staggered back a step, shocked, a trickle of blood escaping a cut on his cheek. Azira had no time to celebrate her success, though. Hester made a sound of rage and grabbed her by the throat, pinning her against the wall and cutting off her air. Azira kicked and scratched, doing everything in her power to get free.

“Angel, why is the door open-”

Crowley stepped into the room and froze. Both Hester and Azira looked over at her. There was half a heartbeat of absolute stillness. And then Crowley went after Hester like a wildcat. She leaped at him, yanking him away from Azira and throwing him back.

Azira knew how deceptively strong Crowley's willowy body was. But she’d never seen it in action like this. Hester stumbled to his feet, trying to protest. Azira’s mind was foggy, as though she was watching the scene from a great distance. She didn’t hear what Hester said, but she saw Crowley’s face twist with rage, and saw her hand draw back, and saw her fist fly forward and slam into Hester’s face.

He was saying something again, babbling, his face crumpled, but Crowley was nothing but ice. She grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and  _ dragged _ him out of the room.

The slam of the door permeated the fog on Azira’s mind, and suddenly it was like she snapped back. She collapsed onto the floor and burst into tears.

***

Crowley threw the deadbolt on the door and then rushed back to Azira’s side.

“Angel- Angel,  _ fuck, _ angel…” She touched Azira’s shoulder hesitantly, unsure if she would want to be touched at all, and when Azira leaned into the contact, Crowley sank to the floor and pulled Azira into her arms. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She managed to think clearly enough to pull back and run her hands gently over Azira’s huddled form, looking for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no,” Azira’s voice cracked, belying the denial. “Just shaken up. I’m alright.”

_ “Alright? _ Bloody buggering fuck he  _ assaulted _ you! I need to call the cops.”

“Don’t bother,” Azira said, running a shaking hand down her blouse, straightening it.

“Don’t  _ bother?” _

“Whatever would you tell them? That a high-powered  _ lawyer, _ who could either buy off a charge or destroy me in court, pushed me? The cops would laugh in my face.”

“Not with me there they bloody well wouldn’t!”

“But you  _ won’t _ be here. Not beyond tomorrow, anyway. Really Crowley, it’s alright. I have no desire to go through all that fuss over something so trivial.”

_ “Trivial!” _

Crowley watched, gaping, as Azira pushed shakily to her feet and marched to the bedroom, stripping off the torn blouse as she went. She rifled through some bags, pulled out a soft jumper, and pulled it over her head. When she flashed a wobbly smile at Crowley, Crowley couldn’t take it any more. She got up and pulled Azira into a hug.

Crowley didn’t want to know what all Azira had been through to make her believe what had happened with Hester was  _ trivial. _ She was still furious, and there was no way in  _ hell _ it was going to end there. Hester was a snake, yes, but he wasn’t the only one. Crowley was going to destroy him, personally and professionally. And she was going to take  _ great _ pleasure in it.

“I’m sorry, angel.”

Azira shook her head against Crowley’s chest. A few more tears slipped down her face, then she sniffed and looked up. “H-he told me what you did. With the Youngs. I’m proud of you.”

A sound that was half scoff, half squeak, and entirely ridiculous came out of Crowley’s throat. She felt herself  _ blush. _ “Makes more sense, you know. Financially. In the long run.” Azira was staring up at her with stars in her eyes. “I’m charging astronomical interest, you know. Ghastly.”

Azira reached up, and patted the top of Crowley’s head. “I’m sure, dear.”

***

They snuggled on the couch, Crowley spoon feeding Azira ice cream she’d gotten from room service. Azira insisted they ice Crowley’s knuckles, which were bruised from Hester’s face. They were wrapped around each other, nursing their hurts, taking comfort in each other. It should have been ridiculous. It felt anything but.

They both knew they were putting off the inevitable. Azira’s things were all neatly packaged up around the hotel room, the cheap purse she’d had with her the first night beside the door.

“Don’t go,” Crowley suddenly said.

Azira turned in her arms, face sad. “Crowley…”

“Don’t,” Crowley begged. “At the very least, don’t go back to them. They’re going to use you up until there’s nothing left.”

“I know,” Azira said, surprising her. “I’m not. I’m… I’m going to start out on my own.”

“You- you are?”

Azira nodded. “One of my sisters came to see me today.” She waved her hand when Crowley started to bristle. “Not one of the ones we ran into last night. She heard about what happened and flew in to see me. To make sure  _ I _ was okay. And she… encouraged me. Made me see that some of the things you’ve been trying to tell me aren’t so outrageous.”

“At least you’ve got  _ one _ decent sibling,” Crowley muttered.

Azira laughed. “I do. And now I’m ready.”

“Let me help you, then. It can be hard, getting on your feet. Trust me, I went through it.”

With a sigh, Azira pulled away. “You made me a very nice offer, Crowley. And maybe, before, I would have accepted. But… I’m different now.  _ You _ helped me change. I’m not going to settle for less than what I need.”

“Angel…”

Azira kissed the top of Crowley’s head and went to the bench by the door to slip on her shoes. “I’ve packed up the clothes as best I could, except what I’m wearing, of course. I wasn’t sure how to go about returning them-”

“No, they’re for you to keep,” Crowley insisted. “No one else could do them justice. Besides,” she said, sprawling on the bench beside Azira, “you’ll need some nice clothes for job interviews, or, whatever else you’ve got planned. Once you get settled, the hotel can send them along to you.”

Azira opened her mouth, like she was going to argue, but Crowley put on her most stubborn expression, and Azira subsided. “Thank you,” she said instead.

In return, Crowley handed her a neat stack of bills. She hoped that Azira wouldn’t count them, because there was more than they’d agreed upon, but thankfully Azira just folded the bills over and put them in her bag.

“If you ever need anything…”

Azira nodded, though Crowley knew that she wouldn’t call. When Azira stood, Crowley stood with her. Azira took a step toward the door, then stopped. “Oh.” Her hand fluttered to her throat, to the pendant there. “Here-”

“No.”

“Crowley, this isn’t just a dress or some shoes, I’m sure this was expensive!”

“It’s for  _ you, _ angel.” She reached out and touched one tiny wing. “Every angel has a pair of wings. These are yours.”

Azira’s eyes welled, and she hugged Crowley close. Crowley breathed in the scent of her, felt the heat of her, and wasn’t sure she could let go.

“Stay,” she begged. “Stay tonight. Not because I’m paying you, but because you  _ want _ to.”

“I- I can’t.”

“Azira…”

Azira took Crowley’s face in her hands. She angled Crowley’s head down, then stood up on tip toe to bridge the distance between them. Her lips brushed, softer than butterfly wings, against Crowley’s own. Then she let out a soft sigh and  _ kissed _ her. Her hands slid into Crowley’s hair, cradling her closer, her head angled to deepen the kiss. When her tongue brushed the furl of Crowley’s lower lip, Crowley gasped. She kissed back desperately.

It was everything Crowley had thought kissing Azira would be. She never wanted it to end. But eventually, breathlessly, Azira pulled back.  _ “I _ can’t.” She searched Crowley’s face, looking for understanding.

Azira didn’t kiss on the mouth because it was too personal. Because she didn’t want to get her feelings involved. Because it guarded her heart.

And she’d just kissed Crowley so deeply she’d felt it in her toes.

Understanding dawned, and Azira gave her a soft, sad smile. “Goodbye, Crowley.”

Crowley let her go, tears in her eyes. “Goodbye, angel.”

***

The hotel room was cold and lonely without Azira in it. Numb, Crowley packed up her bags, stacked her papers safely in her briefcase, and set them by the door. With a single call, a bellboy was on his way to gather them and take them downstairs.

Crowley stood, looking over the room, memories crowding her mind.

It felt like she’d come alive in those rooms. Like for decades, she’d been frozen, not living just  _ functioning, _ until a luscious bundle of light had come and set her free.

How was she supposed to go back to the way things had been before? Back to her cold, lonely flat in London, back to a life where she did nothing but exist?

She shook her head, forced herself to be strong, and closed the door behind her.

***

The managers were at the front desk when Crowley went to settle her bill. She could sense them watching her while she signed the paperwork. They must have seen Azira come through.

“Did A- I mean, has anyone left any… messages for me?”

Tracey looked sympathetic, and shook her head. “I’m sorry dear, but no.”

Crowley tried her best to look unaffected. She signed the final bill and pushed it back across the counter.

“Yer driver’s already pulled 'round,” Shadwell said. There was something almost like disapproval in his tone. “Probably for the best yer leaving. My doorman’s been  _ fraternizing _ with her. Not good fer a young man to be distracted from his duties. In fact, I had to send him off so he wasn’t mooning over her while we waited for you to come down. Sent him to drive Ms Fell.”

“Drive her where?”

“Wherever she wished,” Tracey answered. “Seemed like she wasn’t sure where she was going.”

“N-no, I imagine not.”

“Was there anything else you wanted, ma’am?” Tracey asked, tone pointed.

Crowley shook her head. She thanked them both, shook their hands, and went out to the car.

***

When Anathema closed the door to the limo, Crowley was alone with her thoughts.

She knew what she wanted, of course she did. But it wasn’t like she could just  _ take _ it. There were other things to consider. She’d meant what she said about not wanting to give Azira empty promises. Crowley had made monumental changes in the last week - how could she be sure they were permanent ones?

She couldn’t spirit Azira off to London with the promise of a fairy tale only to go back to working all hours and pushing others away.

What if she really was an Ice Queen, who couldn’t love or be loved? 

It was her deepest fear, and it wasn’t going to go away simply because she’d found someone with whom she wanted to try.

And for Azira, she  _ would _ try. She wanted to make the effort, to see if they could make things work, a real relationship where they were both on even ground.

But would the promise to try be enough for Azira?

Crowley couldn’t leave without knowing.

“Anathema, by any chance did that boy who’s been fawning over you give you his number?”

Anathema glanced back in the rearview mirror, a smile on her face. “He did, ma’am.”

“Pull over. Call him and ask where he took Azira. And find a place we can stop for flowers along the way!”

***

The crepes Azira was picking at weren’t nearly as good as the Regent Beverly Wilshire’s had been. Or maybe they’d only seemed so good because she’d been eating them with Crowley. The balcony she was sitting on in the deserted second story cafe wasn’t as nice as the balcony in the hotel room had been, either. Maybe nothing would ever live up to her time there.

Had she made the right decision? Azira wasn’t sure. Rafael had told her to follow her heart, but while her newfound self-respect demanded more than an arrangement, demanded that she be with someone who cared for her as much as she cared for them, her mind was still full of Crowley.

She’d been falling in love with Crowley - and if Crowley couldn’t love her back, then Azira needed to get away and protect her fragile heart.

She was just about to ask the waiter to bring her a newspaper so she could look at apartment listings when she heard her name being called. The soft strains of Madam Butterfly floated across on the breeze. She rushed to the railing and looked down.

Crowley was standing beside the limo, a bouquet of roses in her hand. Beside her, Anathema and Newt watched on, hands covertly linked.

Azira started to turn away, to go down to the street, but Crowley found the narrow stairs that led directly to the balcony and started up. Knowing how Crowley felt about heights, Azira was touched by the gesture. Crowley held the bouquet in between her teeth so that she could put both hands on the rails, slowly climbing.

When she reached the top, Azira was waiting for her, a smile on her face.

“Angel,” Crowley breathed, holding out the flowers. “I’m not going to make any promises I can’t keep. In fact, I’ll only make this one promise. That I’ll try for you. I care about you, Azira. I’ve never wanted someone to share my life with, but I  _ want _ to share it with you. And I’m going to try my hardest to make this work, to give you everything you need, to make you happy. If you’ll have me.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Azira blinked back tears, and threw her arms around Crowley’s neck. She kissed her, once, twice, a dozen times. “Of course I’ll have you.”

***

Later, they finished the crepes, and Azira decided that they were definitely better tasting when Crowley was around.

Crowley was sprawled on the chair next to her, managing to look both serpentine and elegant, sipping a glass of champagne she’d ordered for them.

“You know,” Crowley mused, “I used to think that it was me against the world. But I’m starting to believe that the world is a better place than I thought it was. If you’ve got the right person to share it with.”

Azira smiled, and lifted her own glass for Crowley to clink against. “To the world,” she whispered.

Crowley toasted, and they both drank. Across the street, a nightingale began to sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna add a tiny little epilogue after this <3


	7. Epilogue

***

Three Months Later

***

Queen played quietly on the Bently’s radio. Azira hummed along. Crowley glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and tried not to be nervous. Azira would like it. Of course she would. 

Still, Crowley’s palms were sweating. She wanted so desperately to do this right. 

They rounded the corner, and there they were. Crowley parked the Bently and cut the engine.

“Are we here?” Azira asked.

“Yep.”

Azira looked around, confused. Taking a deep breath, Crowley pointed to the shop on the corner, the windows papered, the door in desperate need of refinishing, but a new sign hanging above it.

_ AZ Fell & Co Bookshop _

Azira gasped. She turned back to Crowley for half a moment, then rushed out of the car and stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the sign. Crowley got out and followed her.

“Is this- is it for me?”

Crowley nodded. “If you want it. Your own shop. But you might want to see the inside before you agree. It’s… a bit of a mess.”

“Can we go in?”

“If you’re ready.”

When Azira nodded eagerly, Crowley fished the newly minted key from her pocket and fitted it in the lock. The door swung open, and Azira stepped inside.

There were towering stacks of books everywhere. An old desk sat near the back, covered in a thick layer of dust. The shelves were rotting, the floor was scuffed, and the air was stale.

“Like I said, it’s a mess. Needs a lot of work. But you can set your own hours, around your schooling. Hell, you don’t even have to  _ open _ until you’ve got your degree if you don’t want. Or, if you don’t like it, I can lease it out, see if someone else wants to-”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Azira said suddenly, turning around. Her eyes were misty. “It’s  _ perfect, _ Crowley.” She rushed forward and flung her arms around Crowley’s neck. “Thank you.”

Crowley smiled. “You’re welcome, angel. I’m just glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it! I can’t wait to start organizing things! We’re going to need new shelves, that’s for certain. And I’ll research the perfect sorting system, until I can get everything in the proper order. We’ll be using the Dewey Decimal System, of course. I’ll want to come in daily to keep up progress-”

“Pepper’ll be happy about that. I think she thought things were going to be far more exciting when she took this summer internship as my driver. Anathema must have been filling her head with stories. She could’ve sold feathers to a duck if it meant she got to stay in LA for the summer with Newt. Still, Pepper will be glad for an excuse to take the car out.”

“And I’ll be glad to be in a car again with someone who doesn’t drive like a demon,” Azira teased.

“I’ll show you a demon,” Crowley purred, pulling her close. They kissed, and then Azira gave Crowley a wink that meant there would definitely be something interesting happening that night. Crowley started making her own plans as Azira flitted excitedly around the shop.

***

Azira reclined on the bed in a beautiful white babydoll chemise. She cocked a brow at Crowley.

“So, what’s this other surprise you have for me? Really, dear, you’ve already outdone yourself today.”

“You get a choice with this one,” Crowley said, setting the lube out on the nightstand. “Do you want to give, or take?”

“Take,” Azira said almost immediately. Crowley chuckled. She’s known that was going to be the answer. In the months since they’d moved in together, Azira had grown into her own. She had started to express her desires, to stand up for what she wanted, to let herself be taken care of. She’d also turned out to be quite the pillow princess.

Crowley fucking loved it.

“Alright then, angel. Why don’t you start getting yourself warmed up? I want you slick and hot by the time I come back.”

Even as Crowley turned to the bathroom, Azira’s right hand was already sliding between her legs, her left reaching for the lube.

Crowley closed the bathroom door behind her and set to work. She slicked one end of the complicated looking toy with the lube that they kept in the bathroom, and carefully eased it inside herself. She sighed at the feel of it, allowed herself a moment to adjust, and then buckled on the straps. Once she double checked that the remote worked, she went back out into the bedroom.

Azira’s legs were splayed, and Crowley could see how wet she was from across the room. Azira caught sight of her and her eyes widened.

_ “Oh my,” _ she breathed.

“Are you ready for me, angel?”

“More than, my love.”

Crowley climbed up on the bed and slotted herself between Azira’s legs. She shifted her hips, and the protruding phallus of the double ended strap on wedged against Azira’s waiting opening.

Slowly, Crowley inched forward, sinking the length of it inside Azira. When it was fully seated, Azira moaned.

“God, that feels good,” she gasped, as Crowley pulled back slightly and thrust forward again.

Crowley grinned wickedly. “Just wait.” She clicked a button on the small remote twice, and the toy buzzed to life, vibrating inside them  _ both. _

Azira’s mouth fell open in a silent cry and she jerked.

“Too much?”

“No,” Azira assured her quickly. “Keep going.”

Crowley was happy to comply. She thrust again, and again, setting up a rhythm that had the strap-on stimulating them both exquisitely inside and out. Azira’s legs came up and wrapped around Crowley’s hips, urging her on.

They’d used toys before, but never one like this. It was almost overwhelming, the fullness, the vibration, the jolt of their bodies crashing together. Soon the air was thick with the sounds of their moans, the buzzing of the toy, and the wet slap of skin against skin. Usually, Crowley liked their love making to be slow, languorous, coaxing out each drop of pleasure, but this seemed designed to rocket them to completion at light speed. Azira’s nails were digging deliciously into Crowley’s ass, demanding more. Crowley was eager to comply. Her orgasm was building fast, her breath coming in quick pants as she chased it. 

“Angel- Angel, I-” She threw her head back and cried out as it took her, hips stuttering as though she didn’t know whether she wanted to get away from the toy’s vibrations or feel  _ more _ of them. She rode out the climax, then fumbled for the remote. Once she was down from her peak, her body was screaming  _ too much! _ at the buzzing sensation.

Azira was staring up at her, bemused smile on her face even as she was still flushed with arousal. Crowley leaned down and kissed her, continuing to thrust, this time with the toy only vibrating on Azira’s side. Azira wrapped her arms around Crowley’s shoulders and clung to her.

When Azira came, moments later, it was to the sound of Crowley whispering praise in her ear.

Crowley had made it her mission in life to never let a day pass by when she didn’t tell Azira how precious she was, how special, how loved.

Ninety one days down - a lifetime to go.

She couldn’t wait.


End file.
